


Gently Down the Stream

by Shadowscast



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Background Relationships, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, F/M, Gen, Magical Meddling, Mystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-21
Updated: 2014-04-18
Packaged: 2018-01-16 12:54:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1348180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowscast/pseuds/Shadowscast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Here's Buffy's life in a nutshell: dead mom, dead-beat dad, dead end job, dependent sister.  She's pulling double shifts at the Double Meat Palace to make ends meet.  </p><p>And yet, she's actually pretty happy!  She's got supportive friends and a sexy English boyfriend.  Her life is full of love, and frankly after that accident last year and the coma, she's grateful just to be alive.  </p><p>But then one of her friends goes missing, and Buffy's peaceful life in Sunnydale begins to unravel in frightening and truly unexpected ways.  Soon she will have to question everything she thinks she knows about her friends, her lover, her world ... and herself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks very much to Yourlibrarian for beta-reading, and also for helping me to hammer out the plot in the first place!

It was Tuesday, the day after Labor Day, early evening. The light was golden and the shadows were long. Revello Drive was so quiet that Buffy, on her way home from work, could hear Spike's guitar halfway down the block. She went around back of the house without going inside. 

Spike was on the back porch steps, hunched over his battered acoustic guitar, trying one chord after another in no particular order. The sun was touching just the tips of his freshly-bleached hair, making them glow like fire. Buffy noticed that he was wearing the ring she'd given him a week before, the silver one with the Celtic knots. She smiled and cleared her throat.

Spike looked up, blinked, smiled in return. "How long you been there, love?"

Buffy shrugged. "Thirty seconds. So you're feeling okay now?"

Spike gave a quick nod. "Took some meds, had a nap. I'll be fine for tonight."

Buffy leaned over to give him a peck on the lips—no more than that for now, since there was a guitar between them and also she was covered in Double Meat grease. "You'll rock their world," she said.

Spike snorted. "Yeah, and if I'm really bloody lucky, I'll make enough for a cab ride home."

* * *

A shower before dinner was more of a necessity than a frill after a day at the Double Meat Palace. First, though, Buffy had to pass through the kitchen, where Tara and Dawn were cooking up a storm.

"That smells awesome, whatever it is," Buffy said. "So, Dawn! First day at Sunnydale High! Dish?"

Dawn grinned and gave her a garlic-covered thumbs-up. "I didn't get lost even once!"

Tara gave her an affectionate nudge with her elbow. "And?" she prompted.

"And I maybe made a couple of new friends and there's this boy I like and my teachers seem pretty cool and why didn't you tell me that high school would be this great?!"

Buffy grinned at her sister. "Hey, you know I met Willow and Xander on my first day at Sunnydale High." She paused and looked around. "Where _is_ Willow? Wasn't she supposed to be on dinner duty with you?"

Tara palmed a lock of hair out of her eyes, managing to keep her floury fingertips off her face. "She's having a nap. She had trouble sleeping again last night."

"I'll be quiet upstairs," Buffy promised.

* * *

Buffy loved Tuesday dinners. It was the day they'd all committed to eating together, gathered around the table like a big, kooky family. Sometimes it was the only time in the week Buffy got to see Xander and Anya, especially if she'd pulled a weekend shift at the Double Meat Palace.

Today when he walked in the door, Xander handed Buffy a bottle of nice-looking red wine and a carton of fancy organic orange juice.

"Swanky," Buffy said appreciatively. "For toasting Dawn's Sunnydale High debut?"

"Oh!" Xander said. "Well, sure. Absolutely. But not just that. We've got another toastable topic, too. We'll tell you at dinner." He exchanged a mysteriously smug grin with Anya. 

Everyone else was already converging on the dining room table. Buffy took her seat, belly rumbling in anticipation. "The casserole is vegan," Dawn said as they all sat down, "and so's the salad, but the biscuits aren't—" an apologetic glance in Spike's direction, "we had to use butter, we were out of vegetable shortening."

"Who's up for fermented grapey goodness?" Xander asked. Tara and Buffy held out their glasses. So did Willow, who'd come downstairs all of five minutes ago with mussed-up hair and still-puffy eyes. Dawn went for the orange juice instead, of course, and so did Spike, because of the meds—and so did Anya, which Buffy only barely had time to realize might be significant before Anya grabbed Xander's hand, held up her glass, and blurted out "I'm pregnant!"

"Oh my God!" Dawn squealed, clapping her hands. "That's _awesome_!"

"That's wonderful!" Tara echoed, and Buffy jumped up to give Anya and Xander great big hugs. Willow burst into tears. "Happy tears!" she gasped through the sobs, flapping her hands in front of her face as though trying to dry them even as they spilled over her cheeks. "Happy tears!"

* * *

Buffy ate her casserole in a happy glow of vicarious joy, listening to Anya babbling about the sweaters she planned to learn how to knit and Xander describing in detail the cradle he would build. Anya would get six weeks' maternity leave from the bank. They floated the possibility of hiring Tara as a nanny afterwards—she'd be graduating right around then. "And what on earth else will you do with a degree in Women's Studies in Sunnydale?" Anya asked with her usual slightly discomfiting frankness.

Meanwhile, Buffy and Spike sneaked slightly awkward looks at each other across the table. They hadn't talked about babies, not really, not yet, but all of a sudden Anya and Xander were making the previously distant and hypothetical possibility seem a lot more nearby and real.

Of course, Xander and Anya had already been married six months, and Buffy and Spike hadn't really talked about _that_ possibility, either. If they did get married, they'd probably have to elope—they had no money for a proper wedding. And Buffy did kind of dream of a proper wedding.

By the time Dawn brought out the ice cream and potato chips for dessert, they'd all pretty much exhausted the subject of babies. Which Anya admitted in so many words. "Speaking of exhausted," she added, "Willow, you look terrible. Are you still not sleeping? Did you try the lavender tea?"

Willow waved the concern away with her free hand—her other was twined with Tara's. "I'm all right. Just—seasonal allergies keeping me up, that's all."

Tara petted Willow's hair. "Poor thing. You weren't even in bed when I woke up at three in the morning. I was having such a weird nightmare," she added, absently.

"Really?" Anya perked up. "I've been having these _crazy_ vivid nightmares lately. I figured it was because of the pregnancy."

Xander frowned. "You didn't say anything, honey. That's weird, though—'cause, so was I."

Buffy thought back to her own recent, restless sleeps, a disjointed patchwork of panicky, violent images. "Huh," she said. "Me, too."

Spike raised an eyebrow. "You too? _Me_ too."

"Wow," Dawn said. "There must be something in the air. I mean, I thought it was just 'cause I was nervous about starting high school or something, but—jeez, all summer, I've been having these freaky dreams, like everything's all green light and I'm somehow not real, or there's this big thing with a zillion teeth trying to eat me, or—"

"Oh God, me too!" Xander said. "Only with giant praying mantises. Er, manti? And also scary hobbits with leprosy."

"Oh my gosh I had that one _too_!" Dawn squealed.

Tara looked intrigued. "That sounds a lot like the dreams I've been having, too," she said. "There are always lots of things chasing me, trying to eat me. There's this one awful one I keep having where something eats my _mind_."

Willow petted Tara's hair, looking worried. "Oh, honey, that sounds awful. But it was only a dream."

"Of course," Tara said. "It does seem a little strange, though, doesn't it? That we're all having them?"

Willow shrugged, still smoothing down Tara's hair. "People have bad dreams. It's a thing. Does anyone want more ice cream?"

"What were yours like, Spike?" Dawn asked. "You said you were having them too."

"Mine—" Spike said, and stopped to clear his throat. He looked uncomfortable. "Mine've been bloody."

"Bloody what?" Dawn prompted.

"No, that was the end of the sentence. There's always blood. Gore." Spike grimaced. "I haven't had a bite of meat since 1991, but when I wake up from these fucking dreams I swear I can taste it raw in my mouth."

"You're dreaming about killing," Anya said.

Spike nodded, and Buffy thought he shuddered a little. But Anya looked relieved. "I thought I was the only one," she said. "In these dreams I'm so angry all the time, and I'm maiming people, mutilating, killing—doing horrible things."

"I'm not angry in my dreams," Spike said. "I'm—joyful. Bloodthirsty. I love the hunt and the crunch." He looked nauseated. "Makes a body wonder, you know? Where's it all coming from."

Buffy squeezed his hand. "Spike, you're the most nonviolent person I've ever met. You wouldn't let us kill the ants in the kitchen. Don't beat yourself up over a dream."

"You said you were having nightmares too, Buffy," Xander reminded her. "What are yours like?"

Buffy thought for a moment, trying to make sense of the hazy, disconcerting memories that survived each morning's waking. "I think I'm with Anya and Spike," she said. "I've been dreaming about fighting."

"Maybe there's like this night-time alternate universe where we're on opposite teams," Dawn suggested. "And Xander and Tara and I are the good guys and you and Spike and Anya are the bad guys."

Buffy was mildly offended, but Xander spoke up before she could. "I think they're the winning-guys and we're the having-our-asses-kicked guys," he said to Dawn in a fake-conspiratorial whisper.

"It's not funny," Anya protested, but she didn't look overly bothered—not like Spike. "Just you wait Xander, tonight I'm going to dream about turning your intestines into writhing cobras."

Xander laughed, and kissed her cheek. "And I'll dream about cowering behind a really big rock."

"What about you, honey?" Tara asked Willow, who'd been awfully quiet. "Have you been dreaming?"

Willow shook her head. "No," she said, almost sharply. "No dreams. I just can't sleep. Look, seriously, does anybody else want ice cream or should I put it away?"

* * *

Later that evening, Buffy sat alone at a table at the Bronze, nursing a beer and watching Spike perform.

Tuesday night wasn't a busy night at the Bronze, and of the people who were there, only a handful were sitting quietly and listening to the music. There was a background hum of conversation, of clinking glasses, of arguments and giggling and scraping chairs. Buffy didn't care, and neither did Spike. He was there for the music, and she was there for him.

He described his music as a little bit country, a little bit rock, a little bit punk. Buffy wasn't sure which of those parts was supposed to include the spoken-word poetry, but she knew she always got a little thrill when he slapped his hand down on the guitar strings and leaned into the mike and launched into it, words tumbling together in a silky growl, " _yeah the alleyways are burning and the baby's all alone and you're paralyzed by yearning and it's Baghdad on the phone_." Then his grin (just for her), and his fingers moving on the strings again.

He wrote all his own songs. He often mentioned, ruefully, that he'd get more gigs if he did covers. Buffy didn't know much about music, wasn't really a connoisseur, but listening to Spike sing gave her shivers up and down her back. She figured it was only a matter of time before he got discovered and then he'd be a rock star and they'd live in a mansion and eat clotted cream all the time or whatever the heck it was that rock stars were supposed to eat.

She took another sip of beer. He grabbed a drink of water, caught her eye and licked his lips, and launched into another song. God did she ever want to leap up on the stage and have sex with him. 

He was still wearing the worn-out old Food Not Bombs shirt. He said it was the right look for his show. But he'd gelled his hair after dinner to make it all spiky, and he'd painted his fingernails black. The stage lights highlighted his cheekbones and the muscles in his arms. Buffy figured if he didn't get discovered for his music, at the very least he'd land some kind of job with his looks. A modeling contract, or maybe a role in one of those TV shows where they just wanted you to look pretty and they didn't care if you could act.

She was joking, of course, inside her head. Nobody got discovered at the Bronze. Anyway, Spike couldn't work full-time as a musician _or_ a model, not with the headaches and everything.

But it's not like she was bothered. They scraped by on what she brought in, that and the bit of rent Willow and Tara paid out of their student loans. The important thing was that they were all together, and they were happy.

* * *

Walking home hand-in-hand with Spike at one a.m., Buffy felt happy enough to burst. They giggled and stole kisses and snuck hands under each others' clothes.

"I thought that show went well," Spike said, nuzzling and kissing her temple while she laughed and tried to stop them from tripping over a curb. "Did you see, that one bloke by the staircase even stopped playing Solitaire and just sat back and listened to the whole last set."

"I might have competition soon for my 'number one groupie' spot here," Buffy teased.

"Little spot of competition might spice things up a bit, yeah?" Spike teased right back, and then he pinched her bum. Buffy swatted him playfully with the guitar case, and next thing they were chasing each other down the street, shrieking with laughter. Buffy reached the corner first, turned it, and found herself face-to-face with a startled-looking Willow.

"Um, hi!" Buffy said, pushing her hair back off her face. "Wow, you're out late."

"You too," Willow said, quickly and unsubtly hiding what looked like a short pointy stick behind her back.

"Spike's gig just ended," Buffy explained. Spike caught up to her just then, and leaned against her from behind with his arms flung over her shoulders, breathing hard.

"Bloody hell you're fast, woman," he said. "Hi, Red. When did you join Insomniac Jews for Jesus?"

Willow started guiltily and clutched at the large cross pendant she was wearing. "It's not a cross, it's a plus sign," she said. "A joke. For my physics class. I'm very positively charged! Hahahaha.... Well, I've gotta go. I mean, I'm out for a brisk walk. To help me sleep."

"Do you want us to come with you?" Spike asked. "It's late to be out on your own."

"No, I'm fine." Her eyes widened. "But you two should go straight home! Don't go down any dark alleys! Shoo!" She backed a few steps away from them, and then turned and ran.

"That was weird," Spike said.

"Um, yeah." Buffy hesitated. "Do you think we should follow her?"

"She didn't want us to."

"That was obvious." Buffy shrugged and started towards home again. "You don't think she's having an affair, do you?"

Spike gave an incredulous sort of snort. "Willow? You see her with Tara, she's all over her like jam on bread."

"They are pretty lovey-dovey," Buffy conceded. "Okay, I was kidding about the affair. But Willow's insomnia is getting kind of extreme."

It was just a few more minutes' walk back to Revello Drive. As they came within sight of home, Buffy was startled to see someone waiting at the front door: a tall, slender woman with a long skirt and dark curly hair—oh _God_.

"Spike," Buffy said, stopping cold, "why is your psycho ex-girlfriend standing on my porch at one in the morning?"

" _Dru_?" Spike blinked, disconcerted, then broke into a jog. Buffy followed, lugging the guitar case.

Drusilla's dress was dark purple and covered with lace. She had one wing of a moth pinched between her thumb and forefinger so that she could hold the thing up to the porch light and watch its frantic battering. She looked just as pale and pretty and batshit crazy as Buffy remembered.

"Dru, love?" Spike said. His voice was gentle and worried in a way that Buffy found ever so slightly annoying. "What the bloody hell are you doing here?"

"I have a message," Drusilla said, her eyes still on the moth. "For the red-haired witch."

"You mean Willow?" Buffy frowned. "Actually her Wiccan phase pretty much ended halfway through sophomore year."

Drusilla turned her disconcertingly large eyes on Spike. "My poor Spikey," she said, reaching out with her moth-free hand to brush Spike's cheek. "What has she done to you?"

"Dru," Spike said, reaching up to catch her hand. "You shouldn't be here."

"Do you want to come inside?" Buffy offered reluctantly. It was the middle of the night, after all. Drusilla lived in L.A. and didn't even have a car, as far as Buffy knew—she must have walked here from the bus station. In that stupid dress.

"Not tonight, but it's very sweet of you to invite me," Drusilla said, letting her wavery gaze slide quickly over Buffy before settling back on Spike. "Tell Mistress Rosenberg, if you please, that Osiris is rather annoyed and would like a word with her." She nodded curtly to them both, popped the moth into her mouth, and walked away down the steps, chewing noisily.

"Dru?" Spike said, looking like he was about to follow her.

Buffy put a hand on his arm. "Oh my God," she said under her breath. "I think she's actually gotten _crazier_. Do you think she was high?"

"She _ate_ a _moth_." Spike's eyes were wide. "We can't just leave her wandering around alone in the middle of the night."

"Sure we can. We left Willow. And Dru is so not your problem anymore." Spike still looked worried, so Buffy added, "What could happen to her anyway? It's just Sunnydale."

* * *

For the umpteenth night in a row, Buffy dreamed of violence.

She was chasing a shadowy figure through a foggy graveyard. She leapt over tombstones and ducked around corners, heart racing, wooden stake clutched in her hand. The figure tripped and she was on top of it—an old lady in a dirty blue burial dress, an old lady with the face of a demon, and with a yelp of triumph Buffy plunged the stake into the old lady's chest.

"Gah," Buffy said, sitting up in bed. Her negligee was sticking to her back with sweat. Her heart was pounding for real. Beside her, Spike stirred, blinked up at her.

"You all right, love?" he asked sleepily.

"I just dreamed that I killed an old lady," Buffy said.

"Me too," he murmured, and rolled over.

"Well, I think mine was a vampire," Buffy said.

Spike snored.

* * *

Buffy was in the kitchen packing her lunch for work when Willow came in the kitchen door. It was 6:30 in the morning.

"Um," said Buffy. "Tell me you weren't out all night."

Willow gave her a wan smile. "I wasn't out all night." She had a dirt smudge on her cheek, and twigs stuck in her hair.

"Oh my God Willow, did you fall asleep in a park?"

Willow gave a sheepish shrug.

Buffy put the sandwich down and went around the kitchen island so that she could pluck the debris out of Willow's hair. "That's _so_ not safe. I mean, I know it's just Sunnydale, not, like, Compton, but still, Willow—" Out of words, Buffy gave Willow a hug. "You need help. See a doctor. There must be pills you can take or something..."

"I'll be okay," Willow said. "Really. There's just a lot on my mind, with school starting and everything."

"Right." Buffy sighed. She'd talk to Tara; maybe Tara would have better luck getting through to Willow. "Hey, you'll never guess who was looking for you here last night."

Willow looked appropriately guess-less. "Oprah Winfrey?" she hazarded.

"Sadly, no. Actually it was Drusilla."

" _Drusilla?_ " Willow yelped. She looked way more freaked than Buffy had expected. "Oh my God Buffy, are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Buffy gave Willow a funny look. "No serious running-into-the-ex trauma. It was weird, though. She said she was looking for _you_."

"Me?" Willow said, a bit faintly. "Did she say why?"

"Well yeah, and as per typical Drusilla, it made no sense. She said Osiris wanted to talk to you. Um, Egyptian god of the Dead, right?" Buffy made the crazy-person twirly index finger sign. "And then she ate a moth and she left."

Willow looked even more pale, and did not smile. "Buffy ... this is important. Did you invite her in?"

"Well yeah," Buffy said. "It was the middle of the night. I didn't want to be a jerk. She didn't take me up on it, though. She must have been staying with someone else in town."

"Oh God," Willow said. "Okay. Okay. I can fix it. Buffy, if you see Drusilla again, do _not_ invite her in. She's ... she's off her meds. Angel called and told me yesterday. I forgot to tell you."

Buffy declined to point out that currently, Willow was acting only _slightly_ less crazy than Drusilla. "Okay, no argument here," she said. "You should tell Spike, though. He might feel like he needs to help her or something."

"I'll talk to him when he gets up," Willow said. "Okay, well, have a good day at work!"

* * *

Work.

About the best thing that could be said about Buffy's job at the Double Meat Palace was that it was a job and she didn't totally hate it, and the not-hating stemmed largely from the paycheck-appreciating anyway—not that the paycheck itself was anything to write home about, but at least it covered the groceries.

Today Buffy was training a new guy, Percy. He got flustered on his first try at the cash, but he was good at talking to the customers and she had no complaints about his burger-flipping technique.

Mid-afternoon, she came back from re-stocking the salad bar and noticed Percy struggling with a box of patties in the freezer. "Here, let me," she said. She gave the cardboard box a sharp jerk to detach it from the one underneath it and handed it to Percy.

He looked mildly affronted. "I could've got that," he said.

Buffy grinned. "Don't worry—you work here a few months and you'll be as strong as me." She struck a faux beefcake pose, letting him get a good view of her admittedly tiny biceps. She had to laugh at the look on his face. "The boxes freeze together when there's condensation. They come apart if you give'em a quick twist. Don't worry, you'll pick up all these tricks soon enough."

"I don't want to be working here that long," he said. "Um, no offense."

Buffy shrugged. "None taken. Not like Assistant Manager at the Double Meat Palace is my dream job or anything. But it pays the bills while my kid sister's in school."

Percy nodded, managing to look reasonably knowing and sympathetic. Buffy had given him the 30-second Buffy's Life Rundown at the start of the day, when he'd recognized her from Sunnydale High and asked her what she'd been up to for the past three years. Dead mom, deadbeat dad, dependent sister, three months last year spent in a coma after being hit by a minivan. 

"Seriously, I don't think I could do what you do," Percy said now. "I mean, here I am, majorly bummed 'cause I got bounced back to Sunnydale after I blew my knee out. But my dad's already promised me a job at his company as soon as I finish up my business degree. I'm taking the last course by correspondence and I should be done by January. I'll be making real money, and you'll still be here making fifteen cents an hour above minimum wage and playing mom to your teenaged sister. And yet look at you! You come to work with a smile on your face! It's incredible!"

"It's amazing what nearly dying will do for your appreciation of life," Buffy acknowledged. "That, and a really hot English boyfriend. Now, how 'bout I show you where the mop is and you go clean the floor."

Jackass.

He wasn't wrong, though. It _was_ a bit weird how happy she was even though her life, as seen by an outside observer, totally sucked.

It's just that the money problems and the dead-end job didn't tell the whole story. She was lucky to be alive, and unlike most people she _knew_ it.

And her life was filled with love.


	2. Chapter 2

Sleep. Dreams, nightmares. Work again. Sleep again. Dream again.

* * *

Tara called Buffy at work just as the lunch rush was getting going.

"Buffy, have you seen Willow?" she asked.

"Um, no. Should I have?"

"I mean, this morning? Before work?"

"No. Not since last night at supper. Why?"

"She went out last night and she didn't come home."

Buffy felt a chill go down her back. "You've tried her cell?"

"It's in our bedroom."

"Have you checked with Xander and Anya?"

"I'm calling them next."

Buffy glanced over at the front counter; the line of customers was growing. "I've gotta go, but keep me posted, okay?"

* * *

There was still no sign of Willow by the time Buffy got home at seven o'clock. Tara and Spike had looked for her in all of the parks and graveyards where they knew she liked to walk, and Tara had called the hospital and the police station.

"The police were really not reassuring," Tara said, looking pale. "They said something about the incredible number of people who go missing in this town and how they can't be expected to keep track of them all..."

"Oh God," Dawn said. "We have to do something."

"Maybe she'll come back on her own," Anya suggested. "It hasn't even been twenty-four hours."

Tara shook her head. "Willow would _not_ go away without telling me. Something's happened."

Xander cleared his throat. "I really hate to say this. I mean, I really, _really_ hate to say this. But Buffy, isn't one of your ex-boyfriends running a private detective agency in L.A. now?"

Spike literally choked a little. "Oh bloody hell, not _that_ wanker." But then he looked over at Tara, who was curled up in an anxious huddle in a corner of the sofa. "Right," he said with a sigh. "Let's give Angel a ring."

Buffy, honestly, was not full of enthusiasm about calling Angel. Things between the two of them were always so complicated, and he didn't even know yet that she was dating Spike. But for Willow she'd walk through fire, so she went straight across the living room and picked up the phone.

Angel answered on the second ring. "Angel Investigations."

"Hey," Buffy said. "It's me. Cordy's day off?"

"She's away," Angel said. He sounded curt. Which was not unusual in the scheme of recent Angel/Buffy conversations, the last of which had been at least six months ago.

Buffy figured she'd better skip straight to the chase-cutting. "I'm calling because I need your help. Willow's missing, and we're really worried."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Angel asked. "But I haven't heard from her in at least a year."

"I was hoping you could come to Sunnydale and help us look for her. The police are useless and— _wait_ a second. Didn't you talk to her just a few days ago?"

"No." Angel sounded puzzled. "Why would you think that?"

"She said you did. She said you called about Drusilla."

"Drusilla? I haven't seen _her_ in over a year, either."

"Well she was here a few days ago, and she was looking for Willow..." Buffy hadn't put those thoughts together until this moment. It had been three days since Dru came by, after all. But Willow had reacted so strongly when Buffy told her ... and why would Willow have lied about talking to Angel?

"I see why you're worried," Angel said. "If Drusilla's involved—I should be there. I'll come. I can be at your house in about two hours." He hung up.

* * *

While they were waiting, Buffy called Willow's parents. They hadn't seen her, and they seemed unconcerned. "She probably just needs some space," Sheila said. "Have you tried the library?"

"Library?" Buffy asked Tara and Spike.

"Checked it this morning," Spike said. "No dice."

"Why do people say that, anyway?" Dawn wondered. "We're looking for Willow, not for dice."

Anya patted her hand. "I don't know. I have noticed that people use many strange expressions. Why do people tell me I have a bun in the oven? It's really a little disturbing. We're not planning to eat the baby."

The doorbell rang a little after nine. "Here we go," Xander muttered, barely audibly, as Buffy went to answer it.

"Hi Angel," she said as she opened the door. "Thanks for coming—"

Angel's eyes were fixed on something over her shoulder. " _Spike_ ," he growled.

So fast that Buffy barely registered what was happening, Angel shoved past her and slammed Spike up against the opposite wall. "What the _fuck_ are you doing here?" Angel demanded.

Spike, bug-eyed and terrified, could only gurgle in reply—Angel's forearm was pressed against his neck.

"Angel!" Buffy shouted, running over to them and grabbing Angel's shoulder. "What are you _doing_?!"

Angel took a step back, and Spike dropped to his knees. "Something's wrong here," Angel said, sounding less certain in his anger than a moment ago.

"Yeah. You just attacked my boyfriend," Buffy said.

"Your—" Angel's expression darkened again. For a split second Buffy was almost convinced he would kick Spike—but in that instant Angel's eyes darted to her. She knew he was seeing her readiness to throw herself in between them. He kept his feet planted, looming over Spike, and growled down at him, "How did you do it?"

"He's gone mental," Spike rasped, clutching at his neck. "Harris—"

To her relief, Buffy saw that Xander was at her side now. She could not _believe_ how badly Angel was taking Spike being here. She wondered if it would've gone better if she'd warned him ahead of time. Or just kept Spike out of sight. Dammit.

"You don't get to come in here and hurt my friends," Xander said, planting himself between Angel and Spike with a restraining hand on Angel's chest.

Angel shook his head. " _You_ don't know what you're talking about," he said dismissively. He shoved Xander aside without apparent effort and glared down at Spike again. "Obviously you got someone to do you up a love spell," he said. "But _how_ did you manage a heartbeat?"

Spike glared right back up at him. "What the _fuck_ are you on about?"

Buffy caught Xander's eye, and tried to wordlessly signal _I think Angel's gone actual-for-real insane and we need to get him out of here._ She wasn't sure if Xander fully got the subtleties of her message, but he did move so that she and he were flanking Angel.

Angel suddenly moved—inhumanly fast, like when he'd first charged through the door. He grabbed Spike and hauled him up and shoved him against the wall again, and for one bizarre moment Buffy thought Angel was about to _kiss_ Spike (which would've explained a thing or two actually, and she'd always wondered about the two of them and Spike _had_ always evaded her most direct questions...) but then he bit him.

He _bit_ Spike's _neck_.

There was a crunching sound, and it was at the exact same moment that Buffy heard the noise that she also realized that Angel's face had changed.

She heard screaming and it took her a second to realize that it was her own voice, only not _just_ her own voice because Xander was screaming too. And Dawn was shrieking in the background and Buffy just glimpsed Tara pulling Dawn and Anya out of the room, which was good, get the kid and the pregnant woman away from the— the—

Buffy's mind skittered around and refused to settle on a word, but meanwhile she grabbed a lamp and smashed it as hard as she could across the back of Angel's head.

"Ow," said Angel, sounding aggrieved. Buffy hit him again with the now-broken lamp. " _Ow_ ," Angel said again, and tried to grab the lamp. Buffy held on.

Spike was hyperventilating, obviously terrified, struggling uselessly against Angel's now one-armed grip. Angel's other hand was on the lamp, stopping Buffy from swinging it again. He looked at Buffy with his demon-mask face and said, "I was only tasting him."

His face. It was horrible and alien but _familiar_ somehow, too.

Her dreams. She'd been seeing faces like that in her dreams.

"I'm dreaming," she said out loud. "This isn't real."

" _Something_ isn't real," Angel said, lisping slightly around his terrifying new set of teeth. He shook his head, and suddenly his face and teeth were normal again. Buffy could almost believe she'd imagined it, except for the two bleeding puncture wounds at the base of Spike's neck. "But Spike's really human. Which is impossible. What's going _on_ here, Buffy?"

Buffy didn't let go of the lamp. "What are you?" was all she could manage to say.

"You don't know," Angel said slowly. "You really don't know." He looked over at Spike, who was shaking visibly, with tears running down his cheeks. "And _you_. You stink of fear. You don't know any more than the others, do you?"

"Don't hurt them," Spike begged him, his voice catching. "Do whatever you want to me, just don't hurt them."

"Fuck," Angel said. He let go of Spike and he let go of the lamp. Xander, to his credit, immediately grabbed Spike's arm and yanked him away from Angel. Buffy hefted the lamp and tried to look confident and threatening instead of more freaked out than she'd ever been before in her life.

"Touch him again and I'll kill you," she said.

"I won't touch him," Angel promised. "I'm—I'm sorry. I may have jumped to the wrong conclusion earlier."

"The wrong conclusion?" Buffy repeated incredulously. "You bit Spike's neck! And what happened to your face?"

"You're under some kind of memory spell," Angel said. "All of you. The question is, who did it? And why?" He shook his head. "Too many possibilities. Who _wouldn't_ want to incapacitate the Slayer?"

"Start making sense," Buffy demanded. "Right now."

"I'm a vampire, Sunnydale is on a Hellmouth, you're the Slayer, you're supposed to protect the world from demons, and somebody's made you forget all this," Angel said. "Possibly the same somebody who has Willow right now. She may be in serious danger. By the way, where did Dawn and Anya and that other woman go?"

"That does not qualify as making sense," Buffy said. She hoped Tara and Anya had gotten Dawn the hell out of here.

Angel looked exasperated. "I _hate_ memory spells," he muttered. "Listen, Buffy. You saw my face. How else would you explain it?"

"I'm not sure what I saw," Buffy said.

Angel grimaced—and then his face changed again. Buffy was staring right at him when it happened, and it made her stomach hurt a bit. The bones and cartilage of his face seemed to shift and grow right in front of her eyes. His forehead grew ridges, his eyes turned yellow and vicious, and his teeth lengthened into glistening fangs. "This is what you saw," he said in that same exasperated voice.

"Um, Buffy," Xander interjected, his voice tight. Buffy looked over and saw that Spike was on the floor, shaking uncontrollably.

"What's going on?" Angel asked. How _he_ could sound confused and uncertain, standing there with his monster face and his bizarre assertions, Buffy really didn't get. But at least he seemed to be done attacking Spike.

"He's having a seizure." Buffy spoke sharply; she wasn’t sure of much else, but at least she was sure that she was mad at Angel. "Don't you fucking go near him." She saw that Xander had already moved the end table away from Spike, leaving the area of floor around him clear. _Good going, Xander_ , Buffy thought gratefully. _Handle one crisis at a time._

"A seizure," Angel repeated, kind of numbly. Buffy looked at him and saw his face had gone back to normal again.

"Stress is a trigger," she said.

"Um," Angel said. Buffy took some entirely inappropriate satisfaction from the fact that now _he_ looked off balance. "Should we do something?"

"Not until the shaking stops. Except maybe you should leave," she said, making her voice as hard as she could manage.

"I can't leave," Angel said. "You need me far more than I realized. You're all in terrible danger. It might be Drusilla who has Willow, but she couldn't perform a spell like this one—if it _is_ her, she has help. Powerful help."

"And again with the making no sense. What the _fuck_ , Angel?" Buffy felt like she was about to start crying, from confusion and fear and—God, the thing that had happened to his face.

She was about to start crying because a part of her _believed_ him.

Angel looked again at Spike. "This has happened before?" he said.

"Kind of none of your business," Xander said. Buffy could tell he was scared, but he was putting up a good front. She loved him intensely just at that moment.

Buffy looked at Angel. "Let's imagine for a minute I believe anything you've been saying. Do you know where Willow is?"

"No idea," Angel said. "But I'll help you look for her. And you need to go find your sister and friends and bring them back here. I heard the back door open and close more than two minutes ago. If they've gone far, they may be in danger."

"Yeah, well, I kinda think _in here_ is not such a safe place right now," Xander said. "No offense but—it's the teeth, y'know?"

"Buffy, this is important," Angel said. "There are other vampires. Others like me. Only—not like me. I'm the only one who wouldn't hurt you. The others are like animals, they hunt humans for food."

" _You_ bit Spike," Buffy reminded him.

"I tasted his blood. I needed to know something. The other creatures out there—they won't just taste Dawn, they'll drink her dry."

"I'll go," Xander said.

"No," Angel said quickly. "It has to be Buffy."

Buffy shook her head. "No way am I leaving Spike." She glanced over at him; the seizure was still going. Usually they only lasted for a minute or two. It looked like this was going to be a bad one.

"It has to be you," Angel repeated, more forcefully. "You're the Slayer."

"The what?" Buffy said. He'd said that before but it hadn't made any sense.

"You're strong. If there are vampires out there, you can fight them. Xander can't."

"Um," Buffy said, "Feminism yay and all, but Xander weighs like eighty pounds more than me and he's a construction worker."

Angel rolled his eyes—which struck Buffy as a _completely_ inappropriate reaction. "Xander," he said, "Take the lamp away from Buffy."

Xander and Buffy both glanced at the broken table lamp that Buffy was still clutching. "Why?"

"Because Dawn and Anya are in danger and you two apparently aren't going to take my word for anything," Angel said. "Xander, try to take the lamp. Buffy, try to hold on to it."

Xander met Buffy's eye and Buffy shrugged—she couldn't see how this could hurt, and there was really nothing they could do for Spike until the seizure stopped.

Xander took hold of the base of the lamp and tugged gently. Buffy glared at Angel and held on. Xander pulled a little harder. Buffy tightened her grip.

"I really don't see the point of this," she said.

"Xander, really try to take the lamp," Angel said.

"I _am_ really trying," Xander grunted, to Buffy's surprise.

"No you aren't," she said.

"Yes I am." His face was going red, and he'd braced his feet against the floor.

" _Now_ do you believe me?" Angel asked, sounding aggrieved.

Just then, Spike stopped shaking. Buffy let go of the lamp and ran to his side. Xander fell on his butt.

"Sorry," Buffy called back over her shoulder, and took Spike's head on her lap.

He looked up at her with glazed eyes. "Buff— what happened?"

"You had a seizure."

Spike grimaced, closed his eyes. "Neck hurts. I fall on somethin'?"

Buffy realized he'd forgotten about Angel—the last few minutes before a seizure were usually lost to him, at least temporarily. "Yeah," she said, figuring it was better for now if he didn't remember. While Spike wasn't looking, she waved Angel towards the front door. Angel moved, but he beckoned her, too.

She didn't want to leave Spike like this. She really, really didn't. But she remembered Angel's face, and the lamp.

Angel thought Dawn was in danger. At this point Buffy didn't trust Angel as far as she could throw him—but she had yet to figure out exactly how far that was.

"Xander's going to help you upstairs to bed," she said. "I have to go out. I'll be back soon."

Angel was waiting for her out on the sidewalk.

"They went this way," he said, starting north at a brisk walk.

"And you can tell that ... how?" she asked, following him.

"Anya's wearing perfume," he replied. "We're lucky there's no wind. Trail's pretty faint, but I can follow it."

Reflexively, Buffy sniffed the air. Which was ridiculous. She smelled fresh-cut grass and cooling asphalt. "Right," she said.

"Vampires have enhanced senses," Angel said. Buffy guessed he'd noticed her skepticism. "I can hear your heartbeat from here."

Buffy pursed her lips, not sure if she believed him, but she kept pace with him anyway. Whether or not they were getting closer to Dawn, at least Angel was getting farther from Spike.

"So how come you're telling me all this _now_?" Buffy asked. "And not, oh, say, during the _three years_ when we were dating?"

"I _did_ ," he said. "Sort of. I mean, you already knew. You found out you were the Slayer when you were fifteen years old. You knew I was a vampire before we started dating. Somebody's done a memory spell on you and made you forget, is all. Though that doesn't explain Spike..."

"Memory spell," she repeated. "You said that before. I ignored you because you sounded like a crazy person."

"Magic is real," Angel said. "Demons are real. I know this must be a lot to take in all at once, but you're going to have to if you want to survive and save your sister and friends."

Buffy decided the memory spell idea was just going to have to go into the think-about-later pile. "Just so you know," she said, "I'm still not really over the part where you burst into my house and bit Spike."

"I wasn't expecting to see him there," Angel said.

Buffy glared at him. "Right, well _that_ explains it."

"You called him your boyfriend," Angel recalled; he sounded like he was pronouncing an obscenity.

"Okay, I know you guys have a rocky history, and probably I should've warned you that we're dating now. So that was kinda my bad. Still—"

"Since when?" Angel interrupted.

"Since when what?"

"How long do you think you've been dating Spike for?"

Buffy rolled her eyes at the _you think_. The jury was still out on this memory spell idea of Angel's. In fact the jury was pretty skeptical about the whole vampire thing; for the moment they were just enjoying the free pizza. "Since last winter," she said.

Angel snorted. "That seems unlikely."

"Well, we didn't tell anybody at first," Buffy said. "And also—not really any of your business. Let's return to the topic of how you fucking _bit_ him!"

Angel stopped walking abruptly. He turned to her, snarling. "Yes, I bit him. I should've done more than that. Do you think you're in love with him? You don't even know him. He's a monster."

"Like you?" she hurled back.

"Yes!" His eyes glinted yellow. "Exactly like me."

"Well, he's really not," Buffy pointed out. "I think I would've noticed."

Angel seemed to deflate a little. "Right," he said. "That's the part I can't figure out. Memory spells are one thing, but Spike—I mean, it can't be the Shanshu. Blood of a Maura demon, maybe? Only they're so rare..."

"You're doing that thing again where you don't make any sense," Buffy said.

Angel looked at her. "He tasted like painkillers."

"What?"

"Spike. His blood was tainted with painkillers—strong ones."

Buffy wasn't sure whether she was more grossed out, appalled, or incredulous. "You _tasted_ that."

"Enhanced senses. Have you even been listening?" Angel frowned. "The seizures—how long has he been having them?"

Buffy gave him a suspicious glare. "Why do you want to know?"

"I'm trying to figure out what's going on. Whatever happened to Spike—it might be the key."

"So it's not that you _care_ about what's happening to him, or anything."

"I—" Angel looked angry for a moment, and then ... vaguely guilty. "Well, actually I do," he said. "I mean—you know. It's complicated."

Buffy sighed. At least _that_ much was always the same, with Angel and Spike. "Well, the painkillers are for the headaches. Which he's been getting for years now, but they got a lot worse in May, at the same time the seizures started."

"Do you know what's causing the seizures?"

Buffy shook her head. "We don't have a lot of money. For doctors. He had a CAT scan in June, and they told us there's scarring in his brain. We don't know if that's from the seizures, or if that's what's _causing_ the seizures. We don't know if it's going to get worse. We can't afford most of the drugs they prescribed, and he's supposed to see a doctor like every three weeks but he hasn’t been back since June, and he pretty much refuses to talk about it." Buffy realized that she was in guts-spilling territory here. Maybe not the most appropriate context.

Angel had always had this kind of effect on her.

They heard a scream.

"Dawn," they both said, eyes meeting. And then they took off running.

Buffy hadn't known she could run this fast. She was pretty sure this was an Olympic athlete kind of pace. Angel took the lead, leaping over fences like they were nothing, and she was right behind him.

Dawn screamed again, and they rounded a corner and saw her. A man had grabbed her from behind; she was kicking and punching fiercely, but clearly getting nowhere.

The man's face—he looked like Angel had.

And there was another one. He was trying to grab Anya, but she was fending him off with a tree branch. Tara was on the ground; she looked like she'd just fallen, hard.

"Oh my God," Buffy said.

"God's got nothing to do with it," Angel said, and handed her a short pointy stick. "Through the heart. Let your instincts guide you."

" _What_ instincts?" Buffy said ... and yet, the stick felt familiar in her hand. And really, really good.

Angel was already leaping towards the guy—the vampire—who had Dawn. The vampire had barely looked up when suddenly Angel thrust with his stick and the vampire howled, then ... exploded. Into dust.

Buffy was transfixed for a moment by the sight, but she snapped out of it when Anya yelled "Help me!!!"

The other vampire had managed to bat the tree branch out of the way and grab her by the wrist. Its fangs were plummeting towards her neck—

And then it was exploding into dust too, with Buffy's pointy stick in its back.

"Nicely done," Angel said.

"Gah," said Anya, and fainted.

* * *

Anya woke up after just a few seconds. Dawn was unharmed, though considerably freaked. Tara had skinned elbows and knees and possibly a sprained wrist. The three of them eyed Angel leerily as Buffy tried to explain what had happened in the past twenty minutes.

"So anyway, Angel is a _good_ vampire and he promises not to bite anybody else, and we all need to go back home now and figure out what to do next," Buffy finished. She shot an extra glare over at Angel at the _good vampire, no bitey_ part.

She knew how to kill vampires now.

"You'll be safe in Buffy's house," Angel added, starting to walk. "There's a magical barrier that stops vampires from entering unless they're invited."

"What about Willow?" Tara said. She was holding Dawn's hand, and limping a little. "She's been missing since _yesterday_. If she met some of those things—"

"Vampires," Buffy interjected. "They're vampires."

"I don't think it was some random loser vamp that got Willow," Angel said grimly. "You said yourself that Drusilla had been around, looking for her."

"Drusilla," Buffy repeated with a shudder, remembering the way the moth had crunched when Dru ate it. "How does she fit into all this?"

"She's a vampire too," Angel said. "An incredibly dangerous one."

"I always thought she was just crazy," Dawn said.

"Also that," Angel agreed.

"Wait a second," Buffy said, stopping in her tracks. "After Dru visited us the other day, when I told Willow about it—Willow asked me if I'd invited her in. She was really specific about it. And she kind of flipped when I said yes."

"You invited _Drusilla_ in?" Angel repeated. "Then your house isn't safe. Is there somewhere else you can stay?"

"Well, it'll be a bit crowded, but you could all come stay with me and Xander," Anya offered.

"That wasn't Buffy's point," Tara realized. "Willow—somehow, she _knew_. About Drusilla. About the invitation thing."

"And there's another thing," Buffy remembered. "Spike and I ran into her on the way home from a gig the other night, and she was carrying..." she held up the pointy stick Angel had given her, "one of these. And she hid it from us, she put it behind her back."

"Whatever took the rest of your memories, it sounds like it didn't affect her," Angel said. "And she ... she's been trying to protect the rest of you. Dammit. She should've called me."

"Is that why Willow's been acting so weird all summer?" Dawn asked.

"Weird how?" Angel asked.

"Tired and cranky, and jumpy," Dawn said.

"She doesn't sleep at night, and sometimes out of nowhere she just hugs me and starts crying," Tara added.

"And how does she treat Spike?" Angel asked.

"That's a weird question," Anya said. "Do you think they're having an affair?"

"He thinks Spike's a vampire," Buffy explained, shooting a dark look at Angel.

"Well, he _was_ ," Angel said.

Dawn snorted. "As if. I mean, you know he's vegan, right?"

"So Willow never seemed suspicious of him? Wary around him?"

"No," Buffy said emphatically.

"So she can't be completely immune from the memory spell," Angel mused, doing that talking-to-himself-instead-of-them thing again. "Maybe she was able to partly resist it because she's a witch..."

"A witch?" said Tara.

"Memory spell?" said Dawn.

"Angel says magic is real and he thinks we're all under a memory spell," Buffy explained—not putting a lot of effort into sounding like she believed this part. Just because Angel was right about the vampires didn’t mean he was right about everything else. "He thinks we're supposed to already know about vampires and everything."

"Buffy," Angel said, "You need to tell me everything you remember from when Drusilla came by. Willow's life may depend on it."

By this time, they'd made it back to Buffy's house. "She was right there," Buffy said, pointing to the place on the porch. "Waiting for us, at like one-thirty in the morning. She said..." Buffy thought hard. "She called Willow the red-haired witch. She said she had a message for her, from Osiris."

"Osiris?" Angel repeated. "You're sure?"

"She said Osiris was annoyed. She said Osiris wanted to talk to Willow." Buffy shrugged. "That's all I can remember."

"This is bad," Angel muttered. "Really bad."

"So is Osiris, like, some other vampire?" Dawn asked. "We're not talking about the actual Egyptian god of the dead, right?"

"Too soon to say," Angel said, but Buffy thought he looked evasive.

"Is Osiris _real_?" she asked him.

"All the gods are real," Angel said. "And most of them are total bastards."

"Huh," Anya said. "I feel like I should be a lot more surprised by this than I actually am."

Angel opened the door. "You should all pack whatever things you want to bring to Anya and Xander's place. And I need to make a phone call."

"To who?" Buffy asked.

"I need backup," Angel said. "Magic's not my forté."

"And whose forté is it?"

Angel grimaced. "Wesley's."

"Who?"

"Wesley Wyndam-Pryce." Angel narrowed his eyes. "You ... don't remember him?"

Buffy shrugged. "Should I?"

"Yes." Angel took the phone off its hook, then hesitated. "You should go pack."

"I can wait." She was feeling a little more trusting of Angel since he'd helped save Dawn, Anya and Tara from the vampires—but only a little.

Angel looked displeased, but he only turned his back to her a little and made the call.

"It's me," he said. "I need your help in Sunnydale. Dru's up to something. ... I know. Look, I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important. Willow's missing, and everybody else is under some kind of memory spell ... Willow Rosenberg. ... _Yes_ from Sunnydale High. Well, will you come?" After a moment, Angel turned to Buffy. "Give me Xander and Anya's address." She gave it to him, and he passed it on to Wesley, then hung up. "He'll be here in two, three hours."

Buffy raised an eyebrow. "Sounded like he wasn't too eager to come."

Angel looked uncomfortable. "Wesley and I have some outstanding issues."

"Did you try to bite him?"

"Not exactly."

Buffy wasn't especially reassured, but Angel didn't look like he was in much of a sharing mood, and she really wanted to go upstairs and check on Spike.

Spike was asleep. This wasn't a surprise; he was always exhausted after a seizure. Buffy saw that Xander had bandaged Spike's neck.

She hated to wake him, but she had to take Angel's warning about Drusilla seriously. And if anyone was going to be in danger from Drusilla, it seemed like it would be Spike—Dru had broken up with him, but she'd never gotten over him.

If any of that had even been real. How could Spike and Buffy both have dated vampires, and not known it? Things were not making a lot of sense, tonight.

"Spike." She shook his shoulder, gently, and waited for him to open his eyes.

"Buffy." He started to sit up, and then fell back with a groan. "Bloody hell, my head."

"You had a seizure, do you remember?"

"Bits'n'pieces." He gave her a sudden sharp look. "Angel. Is Angel here?"

"Yes. And I'm sorry to wake you up, but it's been an unbelievably crazy night."

Spike's hand went to his neck. "Did Angel _bite_ me?"

Buffy tried to think of a gentle way to explain everything, and failed. "Yes," she said finally. "It turns out he's a vampire and I'm a superhero and we all have to go hide at Anya and Xander's place so that Drusilla, who is also a vampire, doesn't murder us."

"Ah." Spike squinted up at her. "You _are_ having me on, yeah?"

Buffy shook her head. "Nope."

After a few seconds, Spike seemed to realize she was serious. "Bloody hell," he said again, with feeling.

Buffy shrugged. "You rest while I pack."


	3. Chapter 3

Anya drove Buffy, Dawn, Tara and Spike in the Chrysler Sebring, while Xander bravely volunteered to ride with Angel in the convertible. They all arrived at Anya and Xander's building without incident and hauled their bags up the stairs.

Angel stopped at the door of the apartment, pressing his hand against the air as though it were solid. "You have to invite me in," he said.

"Uh, come in?" said Xander, who hadn't been around for the vampires/invitations discussion.

"I'm not so sure you should've done that, sweetie," Anya said quietly as Angel walked through the door.

Angel looked annoyed. "I'm here to help you."

"You bit Spike," Dawn reminded him.

"Okay, it's about time everybody let that one go. It was just a tiny bite, and I had a really good reason."

"And that reason was...?" Spike prompted.

Angel opened his mouth, then closed it again. He looked at Buffy. "Well, it seemed like a good reason at the time," he said finally.

Buffy wasn't quite sure why Angel had decided not to tell Spike that he thought he was a vampire, but on the whole she was grateful.

"So, your friend Wesley," Tara said, dropping her duffle next to the couch. "He can help us find Willow?"

"He's not exactly my friend," Angel said. "But yes, I think he can."

While they waited for Wesley, Xander made coffee. They all sat around the table, and Angel finally asked some detective-type questions—when exactly had they last seen Willow, what had she been doing lately, that kind of thing. Tara kept a white-knuckled grip on her coffee mug and answered the questions as fully as she could.

Willow had been acting oddly all summer. They all agreed on that. "I think I remember when it started," Tara said. "There was one day in May. Willow woke me up just after dawn—she was already dressed, and she'd obviously come in from outside. She was dirty, and bruised. She kissed me and then wrapped her arms around me and started sobbing. She wouldn't explain why. She just told me she'd had a hard night. I was so worried about what had happened to her, but she refused to talk about it and she told me not to tell anyone." Tara gave an apologetic shrug. "So I didn't. I really hoped she would tell me what happened, eventually. But that was the start of it—after that she never slept well, and she started going out at night." She paused. "I think that's when I started having the nightmares, too."

"Nightmares?" Angel said.

"Oh," said Anya. "We've all been having terrifying, violent nightmares. Do you think that might have anything to do with the fact that Sunnydale is filled with vampires and demons and apparently we all used to know about this but somebody made us forget it?"

"Well," said Angel. "Um, yes. That seems likely. Did you _all_ start having nightmares last May?"

Around the table, everybody nodded, some more confidently than others. "That _sounds_ about right," Xander said. "It's not like I marked it down in my day planner."

"I did," Anya said. To Buffy's amazement, she pulled it out of her purse and flipped through the pages. "There. May 22nd. Dreamed I turned a Viking into a troll, eviscerated several villagers, and then was attacked by rabbits." She looked up. "That's a recurring one, actually."

"May 22nd," Tara said. "That's the day it happened—the day Willow started acting so strangely."

Buffy felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. "That was the day Spike had his first seizure."

"Something must have happened on that day," Angel said. "Do you remember anything else?"

Spike shook his head. "It was a perfectly ordinary day. I had a gig planned at the Bronze—had to cancel it on account of the seizure."

"I had a French test," Dawn volunteered. "I got an A."

"I ... don't think that's important," Angel said.

"Well you _asked_ what else we remembered." Dawn frowned at him.

"You're right," said Angel. "Sorry. But—nothing else that struck you as weird?"

They all shook their heads.

After that, he asked them to tell him more about their dreams. There was a lot to tell. 

As Spike, with obvious reluctance, took his turn telling Angel about his nightmares—about the hunting, the crunch of bone under his fists and the taste of blood in his mouth—Buffy sat quietly and remembered Angel's wild claim that Spike, somehow, was a monster.

Finally there was a knock at the door, and Xander let Wesley in. Wesley was a rough-looking guy in maybe his early thirties, unshaven and wearing a beat-up leather coat. He had a British accent, and he gave them all a very suspicious look as he stepped across the threshold. He looked vaguely familiar, actually—and after thinking about it for a second, Buffy realized he'd been the assistant librarian at Sunnydale High in her senior year. He'd looked pretty different then. She hadn't remembered his name.

"All right," he said, "I'm here. What seems to be the problem, then?"

"Like I said on the phone, Willow's missing," Angel said. "It's possible Drusilla has her. And Osiris may be involved in some way."

"The Egyptian god of the dead?" Wesley said, sounding faintly incredulous. "Angel, could I speak to you for a moment in the corridor?"

Angel stood up and followed Wesley out. He didn't shut the door behind himself, and Buffy could faintly hear Wesley say, "Angel, what exactly have you told them?"

"They don't remember anything about vampires," Angel said. "Spike—did you recognize him, sitting there? _He_ doesn't remember anything about vampires."

"What are you talking about?" Wesley said. "You never wanted Buffy to know about vampires, you were always _most_ emphatic about that—"

"What?" Angel said.

"Have you _told_ her?" Wesley said. "I can't believe it."

"I—of course I told her. What do you mean, I never wanted her to know about vampires? She's the fucking Vampire Slayer."

"Don't be ridiculous," Wesley said. "Faith is the Slayer."

"I can hear you," Buffy called out.

Wesley peeked back in, looking appalled. Angel stepped around him, back into the apartment. "Wesley," he said, a strange note in his voice, "what do you remember about Buffy?"

"She was very important to you," Wesley said, in a careful tone that probably meant he was holding back a lot more than he was saying. "I believe you may still have ... feelings for her."

"But nothing about her being the Slayer?" Angel prompted.

Wesley looked confused. "Of course not."

"Fuck," Angel said. "The range of the memory spell was much wider than I thought."

"What memory spell?" Wesley asked.

"The spell that's made you all forget that Buffy's spent the last _six years_ fighting vampires and demons and preventing apocalypses." Angel leaned heavily against a wall, scowling. " _Now_ what?"

"Er, Angel," Wesley said, almost delicately. "Have you considered an alternate hypothesis? You've undergone some rather severe stress lately, and ... well, it just seems that since all of us remember things one way, and you remember things another way, perhaps you should consider that it's _your_ memory that's wrong."

Angel blinked. "What?"

"Think about it," Wesley urged him. "If Buffy were the Slayer, she would have a Watcher, for instance."

"She did," Angel said. "Don't tell me you can't even remember Giles."

"Ah," Wesley said, rubbing his chin. "I see how the fantasy fits together. Yes, of course Rupert Giles is a Watcher and he did come to California because he believed a Slayer would be called here—but he was mistaken. He eventually returned to England, as you well know." Wesley frowned. "You do remember working with Giles and myself to defeat the Mayor at the time of his Ascension, don't you?"

Xander raised an eyebrow. "Are you talking about our old high school _librarian_?"

"Um," Tara said, "Excuse me, Wesley, but—Angel said you could help us find Willow."

"Yes, of course." Wesley looked around at everyone as though really seeing them for the first time—and then back to Tara. "I'm sorry, and you are...?"

"Tara Maclay. Willow's girlfriend." Tara said the last part firmly, standing up and offering Wesley her hand.

Wesley accepted the handshake, looking slightly bemused. "Girlfriend?"

"She means lover," Anya supplied helpfully. "They're lesbians."

"Ah," Wesley said. "Well." He turned to Angel. "Perhaps we should start again from the beginning. What makes you think that Drusilla has Willow?"

"She came by our house three days before Willow disappeared, looking for her," Buffy said, standing up as well. She figured Tara could use the support. "And by the way, I don't know if I'm the Slayer or whatever, but actually I am super-strong and I'm really good at killing vampires."

Wesley looked perturbed. "You ... have slain vampires?"

"One vampire," Buffy amended, figuring honesty was the best policy. "Earlier tonight."

"She _is_ the Slayer," Angel added with a scowl. He seemed pretty annoyed with Wesley. "Ask her to squeeze your hand if you still don't believe me."

To Buffy's surprise, Wesley did hold out his hand. Curiosity and skepticism warred in his eyes.

Buffy squeezed his hand, but carefully, remembering Xander and the lamp. When Wesley gasped, she let go.

"Astounding," Wesley said softly. "But this explains so much. Why Giles' auguries so convincingly placed the Slayer in California ... why there seemed to be no Slayer for more than a year, until we artificially forced the call of Kendra ... only, how could Giles have failed to recognize you?"

"Well, I never actually went into the library at Sunnydale High." Buffy shrugged. "It looked really dusty. And boring."

"I can't believe this," Angel muttered. "I hate memory spells. Wesley, come on, you're supposed to be _good_ at this kind of thing. Can't you see that none of this makes sense? How could I have dated Buffy without her knowing I was a vampire or me knowing she was the Slayer?"

"But ... you _did_ know she was the Slayer, didn't you?" Wesley said slowly, giving Angel a dark look. "Only you didn't want anyone else to find out, least of all her. No wonder you were so insistent that she must never learn of your vampire nature."

"That makes even _less_ sense," Angel said through gritted teeth, "because then why would I tell you _now_?"

"Only out of desperation—Drusilla has forced your hand."

"Well, what about _him_?" Angel said, pointing at Spike. "Something mighty funny going on there, wouldn't you say?"

"Oi," Spike said, "Was that meant to be an insult?"

Wesley, meanwhile, only frowned. "I'm not sure I get your implication, Angel. Who is this?"

"Goddammit," Angel said, "Don't tell me you don't remember Spike."

"Ah, Spike," Wesley said. "Yes, you've mentioned him."

"Mentioned him," Angel repeated, with a look like he'd just bit into a lemon. "You don't remember reading about him in, say, the Watchers' Diaries?"

"Well I never wrote about him," Wesley said, sounding a bit prim. "It's true, a pair of vampires, one souled and one unsouled, taking a human for a lover—it is probably unprecedented. But in any case, you haven't been particularly forthcoming on the subject of your and Drusilla's relationship with Spike, and I never felt it was a matter for the Council."

"A _human_ ," Angel repeated.

" _Lovers?_ " Buffy said, simultaneously. She looked at Angel, and at Spike, who was meanwhile giving Angel a very strange look. "Okay, honestly, I'd already kinda guessed. But still. Wow."

"What was that about souls?" Anya asked.

"I have a soul," Angel said impatiently. "That's why I'm not killing all of you right now."

" _Please_ could we talk about finding Willow?" Tara said, her voice breaking a little.

"The memory spell might have been cast to cover up her kidnapping," Angel said. "I doubt we can find her without breaking it first. _That's_ why I called you here, Wesley."

"I'm sorry Angel, but I'm still quite convinced that this memory spell is a figment of your own tortured imagination. Of course I'll do everything I can do to help find Willow," Wesley said.

Angel slammed his fist against the wall so hard it left a dent. "I am _not_ the delusional one here. Spike—do you even remember how we met?"

"Well, barely," Spike said. "Was pretty high at the time, wasn't I?"

"High," Angel repeated, sounding dubious.

"I suppose that might explain why I never noticed you and Dru were vampires." Spike frowned. "Still having trouble processing that, to be honest."

"Let's stay focused here," Buffy said. "Wesley, _can_ you help us find Willow?"

Wesley gave a slight shrug. "A locator spell would be the obvious place to start. I don't have the necessary materials with me—but I recall that Sunnydale has a rather good magic shop for a town of its size."

"Right," said Angel. "Good idea. Let's go."

"It's one in the morning," Anya pointed out. "Nothing in Sunnydale is open this late."

" _This_ shop will be," Wesley said, with an air of grim assurance.

"I'm coming too," Buffy said. At this point she didn't want to let Angel out of her sight.

"What about the rest of us?" Dawn asked.

Buffy gave her a hug. "Stay here and try to get some sleep. That way you'll be ready for whatever comes next."

* * *

The magic shop was indeed open. Buffy was surprised she'd never noticed it before, nestled between the check-cashing place and a dry-cleaner's. A hand-painted wooden sign over its door read "Clem's Bargain Magic Supplies" and there were actual live bats in a cage in the window display.

A bell over the door tinkled as they entered. The ... guy? ... behind the counter put down his bag of Doritos and gave them a toothy grin. "Hi!" he said. "I'm Clem. Can I help you?" His skin was wrinkled and floppy, like he had about four times as much of it as he actually needed, and his ears were pointy.

Wesley, meanwhile, had stepped up to the counter without so much as flinching. "I need half an ounce of powdered rose quartz, a twist of Hermes' Root, a green rat-tallow candle, and a map of Sunnydale, please."

"Ah," Clem said, reaching under the counter. "Lost something, have you? Me, I have to cast three locator spells a month just to keep track of my socks. Lucky for me I get the materials at cost, eh?" He laughed, showing even more pointy teeth, and set a jar of pink powder up on the counter.

"Angel," Buffy said under her breath, "Is _he_ a vampire?"

Angel shook his head. "Just a demon."

Clem gave Buffy a concerned look. "Listen, sister," he said. "I'm not a vampire, but _he_ is," with a nod at Angel. "Just so you know."

"I know," Buffy said.

Angel stepped up to the counter himself. "Do you have anything for breaking memory spells?" he asked.

"Oh, hm," Clem said, tapping his floppy chin with his talon-like nails. "That's a tough one. I mean, the easiest thing is just to break the focus—but I’m guessing you haven't got the focus?"

"That would be difficult, since there _was_ no memory spell," Wesley said drily. "My colleague here is merely experiencing some disorientation. He recently spent several months starving at the bottom of the ocean in a lead-lined box."

Buffy stared at Angel. "Seriously?"

"Long story," Angel said. "Wesley—if Spike isn't a vampire, then who killed the Chinese Slayer in 1900? Who killed the American Slayer in 1977?"

Wesley frowned. "Drusilla, in both cases. And you were _there_ in China in 1900. Angel, I have to say, these memory gaps of yours are rather concerning."

"Hold it," Buffy said. "Angel, you were alive in _nineteen-hundred_?"

"Indeed, he was already more than a hundred years old at the time," Wesley said.

"Holy crap," Buffy said. "So when we started dating, I was sixteen and you were over _two hundred_?"

"Do you folks need a little time to yourselves?" Clem asked. "I have a few things that need sorting in the back..."

"Clem," Angel said, "You must know a little vampire history, in your line of business."

Clem gave a modest shrug. "Well, sure, I do some reading."

"Ever heard of the Scourge of Europe?"

"Of course! In the 19th century, Angelus and his companions cut a bloody swath across the continent—" Suddenly Clem's eyes widened. "Oh. My. Gosh. You're _him_! Please don't kill me!"

"These companions," Angel insisted, ignoring Clem's groveling. "What were their names?"

"Drusilla and Darla."

"Not William the Bloody?"

Clem shook his head, causing his skin to wobble disturbingly. "Doesn't ring a bell. Of course, those Watchers' Diaries were a bit dry, I may have skimmed..."

"Hold on," Wesley said. "You've _read_ the Watchers' Diaries?"

"Tried to," Clem said. "Like I said, dry as dust. I've got the set from 1850 through 1900 in the back room."

Wesley seemed taken aback. "The Council maintains strict control over access to the Diaries. How could you possibly be in possession of such a copy?"

Clem shrugged. "Demon flea markets. You know how it is."

Angel leaned over the counter. "I want to see it."

"Yes sir, Angelus sir," Clem said, bobbing his head as he backed away like a courtier in some costume drama.

"Angel," Buffy said after Clem had vanished into the back room, "What's this about Angelus and the bloody swath?"

Angel looked uncomfortable suddenly. "I ... well, I used to be evil," he said. "Before the soul."

"Clem seems a bit nervous around you," Buffy observed.

"I might still have something of a reputation."

Clem came back into the front of the store, cutting off that particular conversation. Buffy put the issue aside with a sense of unease. Who was Angel, really? Her ex-boyfriend? A good vampire? An evil vampire? How much of what she thought she knew about him was even real?

"Here you go," Clem said, holding out a big, dusty-looking leather bound book. 

Angel snatched it out of Clem's hands and opened up to the last page. He read for a moment, shaking his head and muttering, and then started flipping backwards. After another thirty seconds or so, he slammed it shut. "Unbelievable," he said. "Fucking unbelievable."

"Um," Buffy said. "Could you be a little more specific?"

"He's not in there. Spike. He's not _in_ there." Angel stepped back from the counter, clutching his head in both hands. "This is so much worse than I thought. A memory spell wouldn't affect the Watchers' Diaries. Somebody's changed our entire fucking _reality_."

"Angel," Wesley said, picking up a little skull ( _cat?_ Buffy tentatively guessed). He turned it over in his fingers as he spoke. "Consider the balance of probabilities. On the one hand—an alteration of the entire fabric of reality. On the other hand—a mere confusion in your own mind." He tapped the little skull. "Which would you say is more likely?"

Angel scowled. "Come on Wesley, it's not _that_ hard to alter reality. Any higher power could do it, or a half dozen monks, or a vengeance demon—hey!" He turned to Buffy. "Didn't Anya used to be a vengeance demon?"

"What?!"

Angel palmed his forehead. "You have no idea what I'm talking about."

"A world of not." Buffy glared at him. "Exactly how many of my friends are you going to accuse of being demons?"

"Er, folks?" Clem waggled his talons apologetically. "Do you still want the locator spell components?"

"Yes, absolutely," Wesley said. "And quickly. A young woman may be in mortal peril."

"Oh my gosh!" Clem said. "Why didn't you say so?" He hustled away again to the back room and was back in moments with a dried root, a small candle and a local map. "That'll be $32.73 all together," he said. "Would you like a paper bag?"

"Actually," Wesley said, "I was wondering if you'd be willing to give us a space to perform the spell here. Time really is of the essence."

"Certainly!" Clem said. "There's lots of room in the back. A whole gymnasium, actually. This place used to be a boxing club before it was a magic shop. More space than I know what to do with, but hey, rent in Sunnydale is very low."

The back room did indeed show signs of being a gym, but with all the weird crap piled around the edges you could easily miss seeing the punching bag. Buffy caught movement at the edge of her vision and, turning, saw a stack of cages filled with writhing snakes. It took her a moment to realize what was wrong with them—each one had three heads.

"Don't mind the hydras," Clem said, patting her shoulder, "They're just excited because they think it's feeding time."

The middle of the room was clear, and that's where Wesley was already kneeling, flattening out the map of Sunnydale on the floor.

"Do you think he can really find Willow?" Buffy asked Angel in soft voice.

With all the weird things that had happened to her in the past couple of hours, Buffy had almost forgotten to worry about Willow, but now she felt an awful tightness in her stomach. Monsters were real, and one of them probably had Willow. Willow had been missing for more than twenty-four hours by now. How long could she possibly survive as a prisoner of a vampire?

Buffy took her cue from Angel, kneeling near the map but out of Wesley's way. She wondered how this magic spell was going to work. Clem had gone back to the front of the store—to him, apparently, magic wasn't even worth waiting around for.

Well. Apparently Clem used magic spells to find his missing socks.

Wesley lit the candle. He bit a piece off the root, chewed, swallowed. He muttered some words, paused, muttered some more words.

If Buffy hadn't plunged a stake into a vampire's chest earlier that night and watched the thing poof into dust, she would've been feeling really skeptical right about now.

Wesley tossed some pink dust over the map and then held out his hand to Buffy. "Take my hand and think about Willow," he said.

Buffy obeyed, as best she could. She squeezed her eyes shut and pictured Willow's face. Willow looked tired in Buffy's mind's eye—tired and scared. "Willow," Buffy whispered, feeling her throat tighten. "Oh God, where are you?"

"There," Angel said abruptly.

Buffy opened her eyes. There was a bright pinprick light shining over the map, in the middle of the Sunnydale Woods.

"What's there?" Wesley asked.

Buffy shrugged. "Trees."

"That's where we need to go," Wesley said. "As soon as possible. We'll need weapons."

"I've got some in the trunk of my car," Angel said, standing up. "Let's go."

"What about everyone else?" Buffy asked. "Tara, she'll want to know, and—"

"They'd only be in the way," Angel said.

Buffy nodded, accepting this along with all the other weirdness of the night. _I'm the superhero,_ she remembered. _It's up to me to protect them all._

* * *

They took Angel's car to the edge of the woods, and then they had to walk.

"This version of reality can't possibly be internally consistent," Angel whispered as they walked, apparently unwilling to let go of his argument with Wesley about whether it was Angel or the rest of the world that was crazy. "If Buffy didn't know she was a Slayer, then who stopped Acathla?"

"You did," Wesley said. "The moment Jenny Calendar re-ensouled you, you let yourself be drawn into it to seal the gap."

"Jenny Calendar?" Angel stopped walking. "Then Angelus didn't kill her?"

"Dear Lord, I hope not," Wesley said. "Last I heard, she and Giles were buying a flat in North London. I doubt Rupert could make the mortgage payments by himself."

"My God," Angel muttered. "The extent of the changes..." He started walking again. "Look, Spike doesn't make sense as a human. How does he think he even _met_ me?"

"Well, Drusilla introduced you," Buffy said.

"And how did that work?" Angel asked. "I really want to hear this."

Buffy shrugged. "The way Spike tells it, it all started with an open mic night at some stupid little club in London. Spike got up and did one of his own songs. The crowd was pretty nasty—a bunch of drunk football fans. I mean, actually soccer, right? But anyway. They totally booed him off the stage, called him names, threw peanuts at him. Spike was only eighteen, and it was his first time performing in public. He took it pretty hard. He went out back, all upset, and Dru was there. She told him she liked his song, and she said she could make him feel better. She had some heroin. She helped him shoot up. He'd never gotten high before. He decided right there—to hell with _being_ good, he wanted to _feel_ good instead."

Buffy glanced back at Angel. Hard to read his expression in the dark woods, but he seemed to be scowling. "That's how he knew you. You were junkies together. And that's why it was always so complicated—when you went clean, Spike and Dru felt betrayed. And when you fell off the wagon while you were dating me, they couldn't wait to drag you back down. He's sorry about that now, by the way."

Angel made a frustrated noise and shook his head. "It's like someone re-wrote the universe, using heroin addiction as a lame stand-in for vampirism."

Buffy glared back at him. "Well, what makes you so sure _your_ version is right? Maybe you're just using vampirism as a lame stand-in for heroin addiction."

"Actually," Wesley interjected, "As I always understood it Angel, you and Drusilla kept Spike doped up on heroin so that he wouldn't notice that you _were_ vampires."

And that was when they heard somebody scream.


	4. Chapter 4

The scream came from a cave practically right in front of them; they could easily have missed it in the dark. Buffy started to run in, but Angel caught her shoulder.

"Let me go first," he whispered. "Better night vision."

"I brought a torch," Wesley said.

"How about a pitchfork?" Buffy suggested. "Mob of angry peasants might come in handy, too."

Wesley gave her a puzzled look and held up a flashlight.

"Don't turn it on yet," Angel said. "It'll give us away."

So Buffy followed a little behind Angel, with Wesley right on her heels. The cave started out as a narrow, twisty passageway heading deeper into the rock. It smelled dry and earthy. It wasn't completely dark; as they went deeper in and turned a corner, the last remnants of moonlight from outside were replaced by a faint flickering light coming from farther in.

There was another scream, very close now. They started running.

They burst around another corner and found themselves in a large rock chamber, lit by a series of oil lamps placed around the perimeter. In the middle of the room: Willow, naked, lashed to an old wooden door. The door was propped up at a steep angle against a large rock, so Willow was half upright. She was looking directly towards them but her eyes were vacant. Nails had been driven through her hands into the wood of the door. Buffy felt a whimper rising involuntarily in her own throat.

And at Willow's side: Drusilla.

Dru was dressed in the same long black-and-purple dress she'd worn on the visit to Buffy's house three nights previously. There were stains on the lace that might be dirt but were probably blood. She'd been leaning over Willow but now she stood up straight. "Angel," she crooned. "Have you come to see my new dolly?"

"Step away from the girl," Angel said in a growly tone, holding his sword in front of him and advancing slowly. Buffy tightened her own grip on her borrowed axe. Behind her, she could hear Wesley easing sideways around the edge of the chamber.

Dru cocked her head. "Shan't be doing that. Osiris would be furious with me if I let her go now."

"If you don't step aside, Dru, I'm going to have to kill you," Angel said.

Dru gave a little-girl giggle and clapped her hands. "Oh, Daddy! I'd like to see you try!" She dropped out of sight suddenly behind Willow's rock and a split second later was back on her feet with a scythe in her hands. It was long-handled, sharp-looking—total Grim Reaper vibe. She was wearing her vampire face now. She smiled, showing her fangs. "Shall we dance, Daddy?"

"There's three of us and one of you, Dru. You don't stand a chance," Angel said.

"Why exactly is she calling you _Daddy_?" Buffy asked under her breath.

She never got an answer, because that was when Dru leaped at Angel, swinging her scythe, and the fight was on.

For a crazy chick in a long dress, Dru was _fast_. Angel barely managed to get out of the way of Dru's first swing. Buffy tried to get around back of her and found herself ducking underneath the vicious blade, narrowly avoiding an unflattering haircut. Wesley, meanwhile, had already dropped to the ground. Buffy spared him a glance but he didn't seem to be hurt. Weirdly, he was scrubbing a spot on the cave floor near Willow with the sleeve of his jacket.

No time to work out what was up with Wesley; Dru was swinging her scythe at Buffy's kneecaps. Buffy jumped—high, much higher than she'd thought she could jump—and while Dru's weapon went whooshing under Buffy's feet, Angel swung his sword at Dru's neck. But Dru dropped under its path, twirling, and it was Angel's turn to jump over the scythe. Buffy hefted her axe and tried to take a swing at Dru's back, but somehow Dru got out of her way and Buffy had to pull back to avoid hitting Angel.

"I've missed you so much, Daddy!" Dru called out in apparent childish glee. "Nobody else knows how to hurt me so deliciously like you do."

"If that's what you want, Dru," Angel grunted, deflecting the handle of her scythe with an awkward clunk of his sword, "just stand still."

"Just so you know, Angel," Buffy called out, trying and failing to find an opening for her axe, "I'm finding your banter very disturbing and I am seriously going to ask you about it later."

And then the cave sort of exploded.

At least—there was a flash, and a boom, and some kind of pressure wave that threw Buffy against the cave wall and made her ears pop. She managed to keep her feet, but she dropped the axe. Blinking away stars, she scanned the cave wildly, looking for Dru.

Instead, she saw Willow. Willow standing ramrod straight in the middle of the cave, eyes strangely shadowed and one bloodied hand raised towards the ceiling —

And there was Dru. Pressed against the ceiling by some invisible force, eyes wide, limbs askew.

"Thanks, Wesley," Willow said. Her voice was hoarse, but strong.

"Willow!" Buffy cried. "You're okay!" She started to run towards her, but her steps faltered as her rattled brain caught up with the latest developments.

It wasn't just that the lighting in the cave was bad. Willow's eyes had gone completely black. And her upraised hand ... she was the one holding Dru on the ceiling. With magic.

"Willow?" Buffy said again, in a smaller voice.

"I'm really sorry, Buffy," Willow said, sounding almost like her normal self. "I wanted to keep you away from all of this."

"Osiris will not be thwarted," Drusilla called down from the cave ceiling. "If you slay me, witch, he will only send another."

Willow scowled, narrowing her creepy black eyes. "Yeah, I get that," she said. "So I'd better not slay you just yet." She looked back at Buffy. "Again—so sorry to drag you into this. I'll explain everything back at the house."

Buffy opened her mouth to answer, but before she could say a word, Willow had vanished into thin air with a faint popping noise, along with Dru.

Which was maybe for the best, because Buffy had no _idea_ what she'd been planning to say.

"What the hell?" Angel said. "Wesley, what did you do?"

"Broke the binding circle," Wesley said, standing up. He looked unsettled. "I had no idea what it was for, but I thought that if Drusilla wanted Miss Rosenberg bound, then it would probably be best to un-bind her." He glanced up at the now-empty ceiling. "I'm not entirely sure I was correct."

Angel gave a grim sort of nod. "New theory: Willow wasn't an innocent victim. Osiris is after her for bringing Buffy back from the dead, and she's changed reality to cover her tracks."

"Wait, _what?!_ " Buffy said.

She seemed to be saying that a lot tonight.

"Hold on," Wesley said, sounding about as incredulous as Buffy felt. "Willow _raised Buffy from the dead_? And you knew about this? And you didn't see fit to mention it?"

Angel waved a hand vaguely. "It happened nearly a year ago. It didn't seem relevant."

"But I haven't been dead," Buffy said. "I mean, I _almost_ died ... oh. Shit. The minivan that hit me. Waking up from the coma ... I didn't wake up, did I? In the real reality, I was supposed to have ... died." A fragment of a nightmare: a coffin, dirt, and suffocating darkness. Buffy shivered.

"You weren't hit by a fucking minivan," Angel growled. "You died saving the world."

"Okay," Buffy said faintly. "Let's say for a minute I believe you about that. What do you think Willow's done, exactly?"

"She resurrected you," Angel said. "They all helped, all your friends, but Willow was the one with the magic. She shouldn't have done it. It was dark magic. There were consequences. But I understand why she did it."

"And Osiris is offended by this assault upon his dominion," Wesley said slowly, nodding. "He cannot act directly, of course, so he sends his creature Drusilla—her madness making her particularly receptive to the messages of a god."

"That explains why Dru didn't kill Willow," Angel said. "Osiris wants Willow to un-do the spell."

Angel and Wesley both looked at Buffy.

"You mean Osiris wants me dead," Buffy concluded. "Um, wants me dead again. Re-dead. Can I just say, yikes?"

"But this doesn't explain the altered reality," Wesley objected. "Why would Willow want to hide the fact of Buffy's resurrection from everyone _but_ Osiris? Surely she would have realized that a god would see beyond any such alteration.

Angel sort of humphed. "So you finally believe me that reality's been messed with?"

Wesley nodded. "In light of these new developments—yes. I remember Willow Rosenberg as a quiet, academically gifted student who often came to the library to supplement her reading for her classes, but never glanced in the direction of Rupert's special collection. You remember her as a witch powerful enough to raise the dead. It's clear now which version of history must be accurate." He frowned. "But in that case, how did you alone escape the reality-altering effects?"

"Magic-proof lead-lined box," Angel said. "Bottom of the ocean."

"Hey guys?" Buffy said. "I think we should talk to Willow. She did say she'd meet us back at my house."

"I'm not sure we can trust her right now," Angel said. "If she really is the one who changed reality, then she's been deceiving you all summer."

"She's my best friend," Buffy said firmly. "And she's been kidnapped and tortured by a vampire, probably to save _my_ life. I want to see her. Now."

* * *

They didn't go straight back to Revello Drive; they went to Anya and Xander's place first. Angel and Wesley weren't happy about the detour, but Buffy insisted. Now that they'd found Willow, there was no way Tara would forgive them for leaving her out of the loop.

A haggard-looking Xander opened the door for them. All of the lights were on, and the apartment smelled strongly of coffee. The rest of the crew minus Spike was huddled together on the sofa.

"What's happening?" Tara asked fearfully, disentangling herself from Dawn's embrace. "Have you found out anything?"

"We found Willow," Buffy said. "She's okay," she added quickly and maybe not entirely truthfully, wanting to quell the panic she saw in Tara's expression. "Dru had her, but she ... she's safe now. She's waiting for us back at the house."

Dawn let out a squeal of joy and grabbed Tara for a bear hug. Tara submitted to the hug, not taking her eyes off Buffy. She looked relieved, drained, but also still wary. Unlike Dawn, Tara clearly sensed that there was more to this than Buffy was telling.

"Where's Spike?" Buffy asked. "We need to get back to Revello Drive—well, at least with Tara, for sure."

"Spike's sacked out in the bedroom," Xander said. "He was the only one who could sleep—I guess he was still wiped out from the seizure."

"Probably best to let him rest," Buffy decided. "The rest of you, too. Willow's okay. You'll all be safe here for the night." They'd originally come here to hide from Drusilla, Buffy remembered. And now Drusilla was ... where? What had Willow done with her?

"No way," Dawn said. "Do you have any idea how worried we've all been, hiding here? I want to see Willow."

"We should bring Spike," Angel said. "There are still a hell of a lot of unanswered questions, and a lot of them are about him."

Xander shook his head. "What _is_ it with you and Spike?" he asked.

Buffy put a quelling hand on Angel's shoulder. "It can wait until morning," she said in a low voice. "Seriously."

"What can?" Spike asked, wandering into the room looking rumpled. He eyed Buffy, Angel and Wesley. "Didn't find her yet, then?"

"Actually we did," Wesley said in a not very encouraging tone.

"She's waiting for us at home," Buffy said. She looked around the room, and saw a lot of worried faces. Even Dawn was clearly sensing now that something wasn't right. "Okay. Let's all go together. Now."

By the time they'd loaded themselves into three cars and made it back to Revello Drive, it was past four a.m.. The street was utterly quiet. So was the house, but the kitchen light was on.

Willow was sitting on a bar stool at the kitchen island, nursing a mug of steaming tea. She'd put on her pink flannel pajamas, and she'd wrapped bandages around her hands. In the bright light of the kitchen she looked haggard and pale, with tangled hair and a green bruise over one cheekbone. But she smiled when she saw them.

Tara let out a choked cry and ran straight into her arms. "Oh sweetie," she gasped, pressing her face against Willow's shoulder. "I was so scared."

"I'm sorry, love," Willow murmured, stroking Tara's hair. "I'm sorry you went through that. It's all going to be okay now."

Tara lifted her head, sniffling, and gave a nervous laugh. "You're sorry for being kidnapped by a vampire?"

Angel stepped into the room, looking grim. "Where's Drusilla?" he asked.

Willow looked around, taking in the crowd. "Maybe we should talk in the other room," she said in a careful tone.

"They've all got a right to find out what's really going on," Angel said. "Dawn and Anya and Tara were attacked by vampires earlier tonight. Buffy helped slay them. Keeping your friends ignorant isn't keeping them safe."

Willow paled, and looked from Tara to Buffy. "Is that true?" she whispered.

"We're fine," Tara said. "Bruises and scrapes. What's he talking about, Willow? What's really going on?"

Willow, looking unhappy, turned back to Angel. "I chained up Drusilla in the basement. I wasn't sure what else to do with her. It'll definitely hold her—I put a spell on the chains—but obviously I can't just keep her there forever. And I have to figure out what to do about Osiris."

"Hey," Buffy said. "I get the feeling this is gonna be a long story. How about we all go out to the living room where it's comfy?" The kitchen was crowded, and she didn't like the dynamic of them all looming over Willow.

They transferred to the living room. Willow, once off the bar stool, moved gingerly and with obvious pain. Tara exclaimed over her in concern and Buffy rushed to support her from the other side.

"You need to get to a hospital," Tara said.

"No," Willow insisted. "I'm fine. Or ... anyway, I will be. I can heal myself. Don't worry."

"With magic?" Buffy asked, and Tara gave her a sharp look of surprise.

"Yes," Willow said simply.

Tara eyed her lover uncertainly, but didn't ask questions for the moment.

So finally they were all settled in the living room, with Willow propped up by pillows on the couch. Tara perched next to her, protective and anxious, and Dawn curled up on her other side. Angel and Wesley declined to sit, so Buffy kept to her feet as well, but Anya took the armchair and Xander and Spike brought over chairs from the dining room.

"So," Buffy began, wanting to take control of the conversation so that Angel wouldn't, "Is an Egyptian god actually out to get you because you brought me back from the dead?"

Willow's eyes widened. "No," she said. "Well ... not exactly."

"Then you didn't bring me back from the dead?" Buffy glanced at Angel.

"No, I did," Willow said. "But that's not what Osiris is cranky about."

"Buffy _died_?" Dawn exclaimed. Everybody not previously in the know turned shocked faces towards Buffy.

"Bloody hell," Spike said faintly. "The minivan."

"She wasn't hit by a minivan," Angel said, sounding rather offended on Buffy's behalf. "She died in the act of stopping a hell god from destroying the boundaries between your world and a thousand hell dimensions."

"Reality has been altered," Wesley clarified. "Miss Rosenberg, would you care to explain?"

Willow looked awful. There were tears in her eyes. "Reality was broken," she said. "I tried to fix it."

"What do you mean, sweetie?" Tara asked, her voice quiet and fearful.

"So much pain and suffering." Willow shuddered. "I couldn't stand it. At first I thought the only merciful thing would be to end it—end it all. But then Xander was there, and I couldn't. Couldn't do it. But then I thought—if I could only fix it for _them_. Buffy, Xander, Giles ... Tara. Just make it right for _them_ , take away _their_ darkness, then maybe I could stand the rest of it." She shuddered, then burst into sobs.

Wesley, sounding more stern and British than ever, spoke up. "To alter reality as you seem to have done would require more power than one human could possibly call upon. Did you force Osiris to help you?"

Willow shook her head, regaining control of her voice. "I had ... borrowed ... power from a few other people. And I channeled it through an old satanic temple up on Kingman's Bluff. Actually I sort of told Osiris to piss off." She gave a wan smile, which nobody returned.

"I don't really get where Osiris comes into this," Angel said. "If it wasn't about bringing Buffy back from the dead—you altered reality so that Buffy didn't have to be the Slayer anymore, is that right? It was a terrible burden and I can see why you'd want to lift it from her, even if you were totally wrong to do it. But why would Osiris care about—" He stopped suddenly. "Jenny Calendar. In this reality, she never died."

"Osiris told me I couldn't bring back someone dead of natural causes," Willow said. "But I found a workaround. With enough power, you can go back and ... rewrite reality. Make it different."

"Will," Xander said quietly, "you know I love you. But right now you're giving me a serious wiggins. What the hell are we talking about here? Did you change our memories?"

"No," Willow said. "You remember everything exactly as it happened. It's Angel and me who remember things differently. We remember a different timeline that isn't real anymore." She looked at Angel. "And I don't know why _you_ remember it."

"Your spell missed me," Angel said. "I was out of the office."

Wesley cleared his throat, exchanging a look with Angel. "One can't simply go around retroactively changing reality to suit one's preferences," he said. "Osiris is not likely to let this one go, nor should he. Miss Rosenberg, whatever changes you've made, you're simply going to have to change them back."

"No," Willow said. "I won't be doing that." Her tone did not invite argument. Buffy remembered Drusilla on the ceiling of the cave, and felt a little afraid.

"Why now?" Angel said. "Jenny Calendar died four years ago."

" _You_ should be thanking me," Willow said, giving Angel a sharp look. "One less ghost."

"I'm not arguing with you," Angel said, though his tone wasn't exactly conciliatory. "I'm just trying to figure out what you did and why you did it. What the _hell_ is Spike doing here?"

"Well, I actually live here, mate," Spike said flippantly, obviously trying to break the tension a bit.

He didn't know, Buffy realized. That whole thing with Angel going on and on about Spike being a vampire—nobody had told Spike yet. And probably he'd have to find out eventually, but right now in a confrontation with Angel was _so_ not the time.

"Does it matter what the changes were?" Buffy asked. "This is our reality now, and it's the only one I know, so I think we'd better just start dealing with it. Apparently I'm supposed to be dead, our old computer science teacher is supposed to be dead—but I gotta say, I like not being dead. So there's a vampire chained up in my basement. What are we going to do about that? There's an Egyptian god trying to hurt my friends. How do we stop him? Let's come up with _constructive ideas_ , people."

Never had she expected to put her management training from the Double Meat Palace to use in a situation like this one. But it seemed to be working. They were all looking at her like she was in charge—even Willow.

Dawn raised her hand. "Research? I mean, everything I know about Ancient Egypt fits on one sheet of poster board, and that's with half the space taken up by a big picture of the pyramids. I got an A on that project, but it was in sixth grade, so ... not so much with the helping now. Maybe if we learned a bit more about Osiris, we'd figure out how to deal with him."

Angel shook his head—apparently in wonderment, not negation. "They're exactly the same," he said to Willow. "You changed their memories, but you didn't change _them_."

"Duh," Willow said. "Also, if you start to think of getting judge-y about me changing reality, remember that you've never technically met Dawn before."

"Huh?" Dawn said.

"Different reality re-write," Willow said. "Earlier. Not mine."

"Exactly how often does reality get altered?" Anya asked. "Because I have to say, this is rather unnerving."

"That question is inherently unanswerable," Wesley pointed out.

"Right," Buffy said. "Okay, first thing in the morning, Dawn goes to the library to see what they've got on Osiris. Who can help with that?"

"I've got work," Anya said. "So does Xander."

"Me too," Buffy said, "but for this, I'm calling in sick."

"I'll go with Dawn," Tara said.

"We might also gain information by questioning Drusilla," Wesley suggested. "If indeed she is acting as Osiris's agent for the moment..."

"It's hard to get a straight answer out of Dru at the best of times," Angel said. "But it's worth a shot."

Xander caught Buffy's eye. "Do you want me to stick around tomorrow?" he asked. "Don't know what I could do to help, exactly, but..."

Buffy shook her head. "No point in _all_ of us getting in trouble at work. Check in at the end of the day, though, okay?"

"In that case..." Xander stood up, stifling a yawn. "I'm thinking the pregnant lady and I should go get a couple of hours' sleep."

Anya and Xander said their goodbyes quickly, each of them giving Willow a slightly awkward hug before departing.

"The rest of us should get some sleep too," Buffy decided as soon as they were gone. "Angel, Wesley—can you stay a little longer? I think we need you guys."

Angel nodded. "Nothing happening in L.A. that can't wait a day or two."

Wesley said nothing, but didn't disagree.

"I guess, well, one of you can have the couch," Buffy said, her thoughts turning to sleeping arrangements. "Oh—there's a cot in the basement we can bring up. But you'll have to share the living room."

"Actually," Willow interjected, "Drusilla's on the cot."

"Drusilla," Buffy echoed. "Right." Somehow Buffy kept forgetting that there was a mad vampire chained up in her basement.

"Wesley can have the couch," Angel said. "I don't need to sleep. I'd rather go down and keep an eye on Dru."

"I'd like to see her," Spike said.

"No," said Buffy, Angel and Willow simultaneously, in varying tones. 

There was an awkward moment. Spike raised an eyebrow. "Well she is my bloody ex-girlfriend," he said. "Or is that part of what's not real?"

"It's real," Willow said. "It was real before and it's real now. It's just the details that changed."

Angel snorted.

"Remember, she's a vampire," Buffy said. "I saw her fight, when we went to rescue Willow. She's pretty dangerous."

"Well she's all chained up now, isn't she?" Spike asked. "So what's the harm?"

Buffy wasn't sure, honestly, but her instincts said to keep Spike away from Dru. Especially until she'd had the chance to gently tell him about his own alternate history. "She messes with your head," she said. "You know she does. I just think you should wait until you're rested before you face her."

Spike eyed Buffy, Willow, and Angel. "You all know something you're not telling me," he said. "I can bloody well tell that much. I'll go to bed like a good boy now, but tomorrow I want some bloody answers."

* * *

Buffy snuck back downstairs after seeing Spike and the girls off to bed. It was already starting to get light outside, but Buffy found she still had energy. Maybe vampire slayers needed less sleep than normal people.

This whole superpowers thing was going to take some getting used to.

She noticed, on the way to the basement, that the couch was unoccupied. This didn't surprise her. She wasn't totally clear on the relationship between Angel and Wesley, professional or otherwise, but it was pretty obvious that they had a history of dealing with weird stuff like this together.

The basement stairs were creaky, so her entrance had the effect of stopping whatever conversation had been happening down there. Dru, Angel and Wesley all turned to watch her descent.

Drusilla was sitting on the cot, looking incongruously prim. Thin chains looped around her ankles and wrists, connecting them to the pipes running over her head. The arrangement looked way too flimsy to hold someone of Drusilla's strength, but Buffy remembered that Willow had claimed to have reinforced the chains with magic.

Anyway, Drusilla certainly hadn't escaped yet.

"I wondered when you'd get here," Angel said.

Buffy shrugged, joining Angel and Wesley in a semi-circle at what was obviously just past the limit of Dru's chains. "What have you found out? Um," she added belatedly, "Hi, Dru."

"Drusilla seems to be in the unique position of remembering _both_ timelines," Wesley said.

"Mirrors and hedge mazes," Dru added, tracing a finger through the air. "Everyone is wandering terribly lost, but I peek through the little holes the falcon makes and I see the way." She giggled.

Buffy gave Wesley a skeptical look. "And you're getting something out of that?"

"She's had moments of clarity," Angel said. "She definitely remembers Spike as both a human and a vampire. She knows that Willow changed reality. And she knows that Osiris wants Willow to change it back."

"Four lives," Drusilla said, talking to a point somewhere over Buffy's left shoulder. "Not quite so many souls, but then Osiris was never very fussed about souls. He only wants the dead back."

" _Four_?" Buffy repeated sharply. She exchanged a look with Angel and Wesley—this was new. "Me, Jenny Calendar—who else was there?"

Drusilla laughed again. " _You_ , the Slayer-who-lived-thrice? Your life was bought and paid for, all the proper forms filled out in triplicate. It's the four of _them_ he wants." She shuddered suddenly. "Beetles," she murmured, brushing at her arms. "He simply will not stop sending me _beetles_. You must tell the witch to set it all right, or Osiris will be terribly cross." She brushed harder at her arms and then began clawing at herself, crying out.

"Willow herself told us that your own resurrection was not the issue," Wesley murmured, apparently undisturbed by the vampire having a total freak-out in front of him. "But she certainly didn't tell us about four others."

"Spike," Angel said. "He was a vampire—dead. Now he's human—alive."

"Oh." Buffy took a breath. "Right." Not a comfy thought. But right now there wasn't time to get upset about this stuff. "So Spike and Miss Calendar—that only makes two, and by the way what the heck does my old computer science teacher have to do with any of this?"

"In the original timeline," Angel said, "she ... was killed, just as she and Rupert Giles were beginning to explore a romance. Willow was close to her—she never spoke of the incident afterwards, at least not with me, but I suppose it may have haunted her.

"Or," he added, frowning, "Willow might have been thinking that giving Jenny back to Giles would make him less likely to fight for the restoration of reality, if he ever found out."

"Okay," Buffy said, "What does my old _high school librarian_ have to do with any of this?" She remembered his name coming up earlier in the evening, but she couldn't remember why—and it was hard to concentrate while watching Drusilla writhing in pain from the attack of the invisible bugs. "Guys, should we be doing something to help Dru?"

"I doubt we could," Wesley said. "Even before Osiris's intervention, she was quite mad."

"Osiris will leave her alone when we get this sorted out," Angel said. "Dru, who are the four people Osiris wants back?"

"Daddy," Drusilla moaned, turning her tear-streaked face to him, "Osiris is _hurting_ me." She curled up into a ball and began to sob.

"I don't think we'll get anything else out of her tonight," Angel said.

"Why does she call you Daddy?" Buffy asked quietly.

Angel hesitated, but Buffy stared him down. This was a question she wanted answered.

"I sired her," he said finally. "Made her into a vampire. It was centuries ago, before I had a soul. First I tortured her into madness, then I killed her and turned her."

"Oh," was all Buffy could manage to say.

Angel gave her a grim look. "You asked."

Buffy felt a little shiver go down her back. She kept forgetting—this was not the Angel she thought she knew.

"In the morning," Buffy said, half-unconsciously taking a step backwards away from Angel, "I'll ask Willow. About the four dead people."

Wesley cleared his throat. "Keep in mind," he said, "that you cannot fully trust her."

Buffy glared at him. "She's my best friend."

"She hasn't told us everything," Angel pointed out. "You must realize that. Just ... be careful around her."

"Right," Buffy said. She glanced over at Drusilla's sobbing form. "Well. Good night, then." She turned to walk away.

Angel's voice caught her halfway up the stairs. "Are you sleeping with him?"

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Yes. Obviously. You know how many bedrooms we have."

"You could sleep in Dawn's room," Angel suggested.

"Going to bed now," Buffy said, continuing up the stairs. "With my boyfriend."

"It's a lie," Angel's voice followed her. "Whatever relationship you remember having with him—it isn't real, Willow made it up. He's a vampire, Buffy."

"I'm too tired and cranky to have this conversation, Angel," she said. She left the basement—slamming the door behind her.

* * *

She'd hoped to crawl into bed without waking Spike up, but it turned out he hadn't been sleeping.

"How's Dru?" he asked, rolling over.

"Pretty bad," Buffy said, snuggling up next to him. "She thought she had bugs crawling all over her when I left. Also, she's a vampire."

Spike stroked Buffy's hair. "Think I'm gonna have to see her for myself before that one really sinks in," he said.

"You missed most of the action tonight," Buffy acknowledged. "Are you having trouble believing this stuff?"

Spike put a hand to the bandage on his neck. "Honestly, no. Feels more like the penny dropping."

"I know," Buffy said. "Me too."

"Those dreams we've been having all summer..." he said.

"Yeah." She kissed him gently, and knew it was time to tell him. "There's something Angel told me. About you. In the other reality."

She felt Spike tense. "Yeah?" he said.

"So you know that Angel is a vampire. And Drusilla is a vampire. ..." She couldn't quite bring herself to say it.

"Me," he finished. "I'm a vampire."

She only had to nod.

Spike sat up, put his head on his knees. "Fuck," he said.

Buffy sat up too, and put a hand on his back. "You're sort of not entirely completely surprised," she observed.

"Angel barely stopped himself from saying it about three times tonight," Spike pointed out. "I could tell something was up. And, well ... the dreams."

"Yeah," Buffy agreed. "The dreams." She understood now that she'd been dreaming of being the Vampire Slayer.

Spike had been dreaming of being a vampire.

"So I suppose I've killed people, then," he said.

"Maybe," Buffy said. "I mean—I'm not sure I really get it. Willow said that _this_ reality is the real one now. Whatever happened before ... didn't happen."

"Only we all keep dreaming about what we're supposed to be," Spike reminded her. "Bloody hell, I have no idea who I am."

"I know who you are," Buffy said firmly. "And I love you."

"We're not supposed to be together," Spike said. "Angel made _that_ perfectly sodding clear."

"Oh come on, even in _this_ reality he didn't know we were dating," Buffy pointed out. "If he'd been all synced up with our reality, he probably still would've wigged when he saw you here. Well, I mean, he wouldn't have _bit_ you. But otherwise—yeah, it probably would've gone about the same."

Spike let out a quick snort of laughter. "Too bloody true," he said. He lifted his head, meeting Buffy's eye with a rueful look. "Can't blame the bloke, really. Vampire or junkie—either way I'm no bloody good for you."

" _Former_ vampire, _ex_ -junkie," Buffy said firmly. "Don't start that again. I mean it, Spike. Your past doesn't define you. I love who you _are_ , my sexy vegan radical pacifist musician boyfriend."

Spike managed a quick smile at her description, though Buffy could tell that the vampire thing was still upsetting him. "Anyway, look at _you_ ," he said. "A superhero. Somehow I'm not exactly shocked."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Yeah, there was something about the snappy way I flipped burgers..."

Spike shook his head. "There's something about you," he said. "The way everyone looks to you in a crisis. The way you hold us all together."

Buffy shrugged it off, and shut him up with a kiss. "If I'm going to hold it together today," she said, "I'd better get a little sleep."


	5. Chapter 5

Buffy had set her alarm for ten a.m., which was ungodly early considering she'd gone to bed at six, but she wanted to get up before anyone else did. Spike stirred a bit, but when she kissed his forehead and whispered "You don't need to wake up yet," he went right back to sleep.

She crept downstairs, and saw that Wesley was asleep on the sofa with an afghan draped over him. Angel wasn't in sight; Buffy decided she wasn't ready to look in the basement.

She made a pot of coffee and had a bowl of cold cereal. As she was finishing up, Tara arrived in the kitchen. She gave an automatic smile on seeing Buffy, but there was something about her expression that made Buffy worry.

"Is everything okay?" Buffy asked.

"Willow's awake," Tara said, which didn't answer Buffy's question. "I thought I'd get going to the library."

"Have some coffee first at least," Buffy said, pouring her a cup without waiting for agreement. "Seriously Tara, what's wrong?"

Tara just shook her head. "You should go up and talk to Willow," she said. "I really don't need coffee, thanks." And she quietly let herself out the back door.

"Yikes," Buffy said under her breath. And went upstairs.

Willow was sitting cross-legged on her bed. She looked up briefly when Buffy opened the door, then returned to what looked like meditation.

"Am I interrupting?" Buffy asked, unsure of herself.

"No," Willow said, eyes still on the coverlet in front of her. "I'm healing. It's okay."

"Oh," Buffy said. She stood there awkwardly for a few seconds. "Um, can I do anything to help?"

Willow finally looked up for real, and gave Buffy a smile. It was the kind of smile your best friend gives you after she's been away for a long time and things between you have changed and you're not really sure how to be with each other anymore. It made Buffy feel sad.

"Yes," Willow said. "If you're willing. If you hold hands with me, I can take a little energy from you. Only a little, I promise. It won't hurt you, but you might feel a little tired after."

After a moment's hesitation, Buffy nodded. She climbed onto the bed and sat facing Willow, and held out her hands.

She trusted Willow. She really did. And she wanted to help her.

"Last night you threw Drusilla up to the ceiling of the cave," Buffy recalled as Willow's cool, soft hands closed around hers. "Is this harder?"

"Not really," Willow said. "What I was doing last night, with the black eyes and all ... well, it's probably best if I don't do that very much."

"Okay," Buffy said. Not like she knew anything about how magic worked.

Other-reality Buffy probably had, though.

"So," Buffy said. "Are you ready to tell me the whole truth?"

"Ready?" Willow repeated ruefully. "Nope. But I guess it's time."

Buffy looked into her friend's pale, bruised face, and wished she could be comforting her now instead of confronting her. "Drusilla said Osiris wants four lives back from you."

Willow winced very slightly. "I'm so sorry, Buffy," she said. "I thought I could handle all this on my own. I thought I could protect you from it."

"Why would you need to protect me?" Buffy asked. "Wasn't I some kind of supergirl?"

"You'd had the weight of the world on your shoulders since you were fifteen years old," Willow said quietly. She sounded like she might start to cry. "It was crushing you. I thought ... I thought I could let you be normal. Then maybe you could have a chance to be happy."

"So you made a new reality where I could be Assistant Manager at the Double Meat Palace?" Buffy squeezed Willow's hands. "Couldn't you have at least made me a movie star?"

Willow let out a sound between a choke and a giggle. "You got the job at the Double Meat Palace all on your own," she said. "In the other reality. I know it might be hard to believe, but when I changed things, I changed as little as possible. The spell would've been unmanageable otherwise."

"What about Spike?" Buffy asked.

Willow nodded. "His part was the hardest. So many changes. He had a history with Angel and Dru going back to 1880, and of course _they_ were still going to be vampires. For all their memories to match ... it was tricky."

Buffy felt a little cold. It was really just starting to sink in for her, the extent of what Willow had done. "You wanted me to be happy," she said. "So you took some ... some random vampire, and made him into the perfect boyfriend for me?"

"No," Willow said sharply. "I wouldn't do that. You and Spike already had a relationship. I told you, I changed as little as possible."

"But he was a vampire. And I was a vampire slayer." Buffy frowned. "Was he a good vampire?"

"Not exactly." Willow looked uncomfortable. "I didn't say you were happy together. It was ... kind of a mess. The rest of us thought you were crazy to be involved with him."

"So you fixed him." Buffy bit her lip. A chill was going down her back, and her arms felt heavy. She wanted to blame the healing spell, but she was pretty sure it was just the conversation. "Willow, that's not okay."

Willow leaned forward, an intense, slightly wild look in her eyes. "No," she said. "It's not like you're thinking. I didn't put him together from scratch. I made him human, but his personality, his feelings for you—all of that is really him."

"And the seizures? The headaches?" Buffy asked quietly. "Are those his punishment for whatever he did when he was a vampire?"

"God no," Willow said, looking appalled at the suggestion. "I'm really sorry about the seizures. He had brain damage, from this ... this government behavior-modification chip that was implanted in his brain. I made the chip go poof, but I didn't realize the scarring would mess him up so much."

"A government behavior-modification chip," Buffy repeated. "In his brain."

Willow shrugged. "It was a thing."

Buffy nodded. Every time she thought this alternate reality thing couldn't get any weirder, it did.

But that wasn't really the point here.

"Did you ask me?" she asked quietly. "Or Spike? In the other reality, before you changed everything to make us happier, did you ask us if that was what we wanted?"

The guilty look in Willow's eyes was enough of an answer.

"Willow, why did you do it?" Buffy asked, watching her face intently. "Were things really so bad for me? Did you just wake up one day and think to yourself _hey, it's about time to replace this reality with a better one?_ "

Willow's eyes brimmed with tears. She squeezed Buffy's hands. "No," she whispered. "I did it because Tara was dead."

"Oh," Buffy said.

Willow began sobbing, crumpling in on herself.

_So that's three,_ Buffy found herself thinking.

She knew she should be upset at the idea that Tara had died. But considering everything else she'd had to absorb over the past twenty-four hours, honestly this barely registered. She'd already had to deal with the idea that she'd died and been resurrected herself, that her boyfriend was really supposed to be a hundred-year-old vampire, that her _ex_ -boyfriend was _in fact_ a centuries-old vampire ... yeah, it had been one hell of a night.

Of course the main problem, Buffy remembered, was that Osiris wanted the dead people back.

Which was probably why Willow was so upset.

"Shhhh," Buffy said. "Shhhhhh. We're gonna figure this one out, Will. We're going to research Osiris and we're going to talk to Dru and figure out what we can do." She tried to sound a lot more certain than she felt.

"He can't have her back," Willow said fiercely through her tears.

"That's not even a question," Buffy assured her.

Willow lifted her head, sniffling. "Tara thought it might be."

"That's why she was upset when I saw her downstairs?" Buffy asked. "She thought you might turn her over to Osiris?"

"No," Willow said darkly. "She thought she might turn _herself_ over to Osiris."

Buffy admired Tara's bravery, even as she swore to herself that she would _not_ let that happen.

Only, how exactly do you defy an actual god?

"You still haven't told me who the fourth person is that Osiris wants," Buffy reminded Willow.

Willow nodded. "It’s Anya."

Buffy sat up a little straighter. Anya. All right. All four cards on the table, finally. Spike, Tara, Anya, Jenny Calendar. "How did she die?"

"Well, she didn’t, exactly. It's more of a technicality. She became a demon. Again. So that put her in Osiris's domain."

Buffy shook her head. "Is there anyone we know who _isn’t_ supposed to be a vampire or a demon or have magic powers or whatever?"

"Xander," Willow said with a sad smile. "He’s always been perfectly normal, except for the fact that he hangs out with us."

"That’s ... kind of comforting," Buffy said. "I guess."

* * *

The rest of the day passed quietly. Willow concentrated on healing. Buffy helped her until she felt exhausted, and then she took a nap. When she woke up in the late afternoon, she found Spike alone in the kitchen, huddled over a mug of chamomile tea.

"I saw Dru," he said.

"Alone?" Buffy’s arms went goosebumpy, even though she could already see he was safe.

"No," he said. "Angel was there." He sipped his tea, a distant look in his eyes.

"And? How did it go?" Buffy prompted.

"She’s barking mad," Spike said sadly. "And she’s in so much pain."

"Still with the bugs?" Buffy asked.

Spike shrugged. "Had a long talk with Angel, too. He filled in a hundred years or so of history for me. Think I understand why he hates me, now."

"He has no right to hate you for stuff that other-you did in the other timeline," Buffy said, unconsciously curling her hands into fists.

"I think he might be coming around to agreeing with you on that point," Spike said, gently touching her hand so she uncurled her fingers. "And I think he finds that painful, too. Whatever else she did—Willow gave me a chance to walk away from my bloody history. I guess she did it for you, not for me, but there it is. Angel, though—his ghosts are all still haunting him."

Just then, Buffy heard the front door opening. "That’ll be Tara and Dawn, I guess," she said. "Let’s go see what they’ve found out."

Dawn and Tara each had a stack of books in their arms. The number of Post-It notes sticking out of each one was a testament to how intensely they’d been working that afternoon.

"So how about a quick summary?" Buffy suggested, eyeing the piles.

"Can we get everyone together first?" Dawn asked. "Also, some food? I’m starving."

Xander and Anya arrived just before the pizza. Tara fetched Willow from upstairs, and Wesley fetched Angel from the basement. Everyone gathered around the dining room table, where Dawn was trying to keep the library books separate from the pizza slices.

"Okay, what have we got?" Buffy asked.

"Nothing new from Drusilla," Angel said, lowering the mug he’d been drinking from. "She spent half the day sleeping and half the day talking about how she’d like to knit herself new stockings out of all our intestines."

Buffy shuddered. "Well that gives me warm fuzzies. Why does your drink smell like raw steak, by the way?"

"Pig’s blood." Angel tipped the mug towards her so she could see the dark liquid inside. "Wesley got it for me while you were napping."

Spike, at the other end of the table, blanched and put down his bean-sprout and tofu sandwich.

"Better than having a hungry vampire at the table!" Anya pointed out.

"True that," Xander said. "Is anybody else having the cheesy bread?"

"Focus, everyone," Buffy said. "We’ve got a pissed-off ancient Egyptian god to outwit. What’ve we got from Team Research?"

"Okay," Dawn said, talking around a mouthful of pizza. "So here’s the deal. Osiris is the Lord of the Dead but he isn’t a bad guy. At least, the ancient Egyptians thought he was a pretty righteous dude."

"One interesting thing about him," Tara said, "is that he was actually murdered by his brother Set, and then brought back to life by his lover, Isis."

"Seriously?" Buffy said. "But then how can he possibly be mad at Willow?"

"Well," Dawn said, "He didn’t get to _stay_ alive. After a little while he had to go back to the Underworld, ‘cause those are the rules. So you can see how he might not feel like making an exception for Willow." From the look Dawn gave Tara, Buffy guessed that Tara had filled Dawn in on the fact of her own death and resurrection.

"It’s a pretty sad story," Tara added. "During his brief resurrection he got Isis pregnant, but then he never had the chance to know his son."

"That was Horus," Dawn added. "Another important Egyptian god. He’s the guy with the falcon head."

"Falcon," Buffy repeated. Why did that ring a bell?

Drusilla.

_Mirrors and hedge mazes. I peek through the little holes the falcon makes and I see the way._

Was Drusilla giving her a hint?

"I want to talk to Drusilla," she said.

"Not without me," Angel said.

"Or me," Willow added.

"Actually, I think I’m gonna need Anya," Buffy said.

"Um, no," Xander said. "What the hell does she have to do with any of this? And also, again I say no."

"I can speak for myself honey," Anya said. "But I don’t see why I should go into the basement with the crazy vampire."

"She’s one of the ones Osiris wants," Buffy said. "Along with Spike, Tara, and Miss Calendar. Willow took all of them away from Osiris, and he wants them back."

Xander looked confused and angry. He laid a protective hand on Anya's shoulder. "I thought he wanted _you_ back."

"No, we were wrong about that one," Buffy said. "But I think I can convince him not to take anybody at all."

Suddenly there was sound like a muffled explosion from the basement. The windows rattled.

"Uh oh," Willow said. "I think maybe Osiris has been listening in."

Buffy grabbed Willow’s hand. "Let’s go. Anya?"

She stood up. "If there’s a god after me, sweetie, we’d better do something about it," she said to Xander.

Buffy was already moving. She didn’t look back, but she sensed that everyone was following her.

In the basement, Dru was standing up. Her chains were gone and a turbulent cloud of smoke hovered over her head.

There was a face in the smoke.

"It is time, witch," said Drusilla and the face, speaking together. "Undo the spell and I will leave you in peace." The cloud’s voice was deep and seemed to echo from all directions at once.

"No way," Willow said. She sounded defiant but also a little scared. 

Buffy glanced back at her. "Leave this to me, okay?" she whispered. Then she stepped towards Drusilla. "Osiris," she said, addressing the cloud. "I’ve come to, um, humbly beg you to reconsider."

Osiris glared down at her from the cloud. Drusilla’s lips twisted, echoing the expression. "The laws of life and death must be respected," said the god and the vampire together. "Four have been stolen from my domain; they must be returned."

"Yes," said Buffy, heart pounding. "We all know how important rules are. But if Willow undoes her spell now, she won’t extinguish four lives—she’ll extinguish five." She pointed at Anya. "She’s pregnant. It’s like Isis and Horus, right? How would you have felt if your god buddies had said that you had to retroactively make Horus stop existing just because he was never actually supposed to exist in the first place?"

The face in the clouds turned to Anya. "Is this true?" it asked her in its terrifying doubled voice.

"Yes," Anya said, standing her ground and putting a hand over her belly. "I have a bun in my oven. We’re really excited about it and we’ve already started buying baby clothes. The thought of you making Willow change the past so that I’m dead and the baby will never exist at all makes me very sad. Please don’t do that."

Osiris’s cloud went into overdrive. Tendrils shot out in all directions, only to pull back again a second later. The cloud expanded, roiling. Osiris and Drusilla opened their mouths wide and roared.

"Eeep," Anya said, falling back a step.

"Well?" Buffy said to the cloud.

The cloud contracted suddenly to its original size. Osiris and Drusilla turned towards Willow. "I will renounce my claim on the four for the sake of the fifth," they said together. "On one condition."

"Name it," Buffy said, keeping her poker face with a great effort. Had she actually just managed to out-negotiate a god?

"The witch must surrender her power. She will offer it to me and I will burn it from her. No more will she interfere with the just and natural order of life and death."

"Okay," Buffy said, but at the same moment Willow said "Wait! Let me think about this for a second!"

Buffy turned to Willow. "Uh, Will?" she said under her breath. "Isn’t this kind of a no-brainer?"

Willow shot a desperate glance at Tara. "There’s got to be another way," she said. "Without my power I won’t be able to protect any of you anymore."

"Maybe that would be for the best," Anya said. "Considering how you mostly seem to protect us by messing around with us and lying to us."

"If it weren’t for me you’d be a demon," Willow said angrily.

"Huh?" Anya said. "A demon? I thought I was supposed to be dead."

"Willow," Tara said, reaching for Willow’s hand, "We’ll all protect each other. Like we did yesterday. Not like this summer when I felt you slipping away from me every day. Please, love, take Osiris’s deal."

Willow held Tara’s gaze for a long moment. Her lip trembled, and it looked like she was fighting back tears. "Without my magic I couldn't have saved you," she whispered.

"I grow impatient, witch," said Osiris/Drusilla. And then suddenly Dru was in motion, a blur crossing the room, heading for Dawn. There was a twanging sound and something small bounced off her, clattered to the floor. Buffy was already moving to intercept, but the god-touched vampire was too fast. Dru reached Dawn first.

Dawn shrieked as Dru grabbed her. Dru spun to face the rest of them, one arm around Dawn's shoulders, the other gripping Dawn's head. "Accept my offer, witch," said Dru's voice along with Osiris's, "or my creature will begin to murder your friends."

Buffy flinched, her heart in her mouth. She was still more than arm's reach from Dru. Angel, not very far away on the other side, shifted into his vampire face.

"Buffy, Angel, no," Wesley said quickly. "Dru is under Osiris's protection. My bolt just bounced off her. You'll only get Dawn killed." He had a crossbow in his hands, Buffy saw, and it looked like he'd already re-loaded it.

"Willow!" Buffy shouted. "Take the fucking deal!"

"All right!" Willow yelled at Osiris, her panicky gaze darting between Drusilla and Buffy. "I accept! I accept!" She was still holding Tara's hand with a white-knuckled grip.

Drusilla let go of Dawn as abruptly as she'd grabbed her, and stalked over to Willow. "Good," she said in her doubled voice.

Buffy rushed to Dawn and wrapped her arms around her.

"I'm fine," Dawn squeaked, but she sagged against Buffy like her knees had just given out.

Dru, meanwhile, had reached up with both hands to cup Willow's face. Nobody moved to interfere. Willow stood ramrod straight, her face gone very pale. Tara had backed off a couple of steps, and she looked terrified.

The clouds with Osiris's face in them roiled and bubbled across the basement until they were directly over Willow—and then, suddenly, Dru did something with her hands and Willow's mouth opened wide and the clouds flew in.

Willow began to shake. It made Buffy think of Spike's seizures, but Willow didn't fall—maybe because Dru was holding her up. Willow's eyes clouded over and then went jet-black. Willow screamed. Tara darted forward, crying Willow's name, but she seemed to bounce off an invisible barrier a few inches from Willow. Willow's scream went on and on.

And then it stopped.

The clouds whirled back out of her mouth, forming a heaving gray mass once again over Willow's head. Osiris's face glared down from the cloud. "IT IS DONE," he said, and this time Dru didn't echo the words.

Dru let go of Willow. Willow dropped to the floor like a rag doll. Osiris's face melted into the cloud, which began to spin, faster and faster, a tight miniature tornado, and then it pulled into itself and was gone.

Dru staggered sideways, then caught herself. She looked around at everybody with a mildly puzzled expression. "Were we having a tea party?" she asked.

And then something twanged just to Buffy's left, and a crossbow bolt sprouted from Drusilla's chest.

Dru looked down, surprised. "Oh," she said, and exploded into dust.

Everyone looked at Wesley, with varying degrees of shock. He calmly lowered his crossbow. "It appears that Osiris withdrew his protection at the moment of his departure," he said.

"You ... you _wanker_ ," Spike choked out. "You didn't have to ... she wasn't ... we could have..." He fell to his knees with a strangled sob. Buffy would have gone to him, except she didn't want to let go of Dawn.

"Remember what she really was," Angel said. "Wesley did the right thing." His own voice seemed a little unsteady, though, and the look he gave Wesley was not entirely approving.

"Tara," Xander said. His arms were wrapped around Anya. "Is Willow ... okay?"

Tara was kneeling on the floor by Willow. "She's breathing," she said. "Could somebody help me? I think ... maybe we should get her to the hospital?"

"Probably best to let her rest here at home and see how it goes," Wesley suggested. "Hospitals aren't often much help with this sort of thing."

"So, just to be clear," said Anya, "We're safe now, right? Nobody has to go back to the Underworld? We won?"

"Looks like it," Angel confirmed.

"Yay us," Buffy said, faintly.


	6. Epilogue

Willow woke up the next morning. She seemed to be all right, physically, but she was very quiet. She mostly lay in bed, staring empty-eyed at the window for days on end.

Spike was the one who suggested putting her on suicide watch.

"I think maybe I know a little bit about what she's going through," he had said, "and it isn't going to be easy."

"Getting your magic burned out isn't exactly like quitting heroin," Buffy had said.

"Well," Spike had said, "None of us know _what_ it's like, do we? But here's one thing she's got in common with an ex-junkie: now all of a sudden she's going to have to deal with reality on its own terms. That's hard, at first, when you're used to having something else to reach for.

"And here's another thing," he had added, "Now she's going to have to face up to everyone she lied to."

Lies.

There were the lies Willow had been telling them all summer, mostly lies of omission, and that was one thing, but then there was the fact that their entire reality was a lie she'd constructed.

Only this reality _wasn't_ a lie now, it was the new truth. The whole thing was pretty confusing to Buffy, but Angel and Wesley, who both apparently had some experience with this sort of thing, backed up Willow on this point: what you see now is what you get. The original reality had been written over; it was retroactively non-existent, except for Angel and Willow's memories of it.

That and the dreams, and the dreams had stopped right after the confrontation with Osiris. Wesley's guess was that the dreams had been the result of Osiris trying to push the original reality back into them all; now that he'd given up on that, no more dreams.

Buffy missed the dreams.

The dreams were her only first-hand experience of the original reality, and no matter what Willow or Angel said, Buffy was convinced that there was a hierarchy of realities and that the old reality had been more _real_ than this one.

The old reality had been naturally-occurring. This one was Willow-made.

Only ... there was that thing about other reality re-writes. The thing about Dawn. It sort of made Buffy's head hurt, trying to parse it. Apparently the original reality _wasn't_ the original reality, really; originally there had been a reality with no Dawn in it. Even Willow and Angel didn't remember that one, but they remembered discovering its existence.

(Original-Dawn had been pretty upset, apparently, to find out that she was really a glowing green Hell-dimension key. Buffy didn't exactly have to imagine it, because she'd lived through the corresponding event in the current reality, when in going through their mom's papers after her death they had found out that Dawn was adopted.)

Buffy had been learning as much as she possibly could about the other reality—from Angel, before he went back to L.A., and from Willow, when she was willing to talk. Buffy figured that if she was going to have to step into this Vampire Slayer role now, she'd better know as much as she possibly could about how it worked, and how original-Buffy had done it.

All in all, the more Buffy learned about the other reality, the more she was pretty glad she hadn't lived through it.

Not that _this_ reality had been any piece of cake either, and that was interesting when you thought about it—Willow hadn't made life _perfect_. Buffy's mom was still dead. Buffy was still poor.

But hey, Buffy wasn't dead, thanks to Willow, and neither was Tara. Spike and Anya were ordinary people, with good days and bad days, and Buffy and Xander loved them.

Unlike Buffy, Xander and Anya seemed to have decided that they didn't want to know any more than they had to about the original timeline. Since the big showdown they'd been mostly keeping to themselves. Buffy knew more about their past than they did, now—Willow had explained the whole vengeance demon thing to her, and about how in the original timeline Xander had left Anya at the altar. Buffy figured maybe eventually Xander and Anya would want to know that stuff, when it seemed more distant. Or maybe not. Their call.

Dawn was fascinated by the stories of the original timeline, but she seemed to almost see them as interesting fiction—a "what if?" alternate version of her own history. She thought the whole glowy-green-key thing was hilarious. She speculated about whether the made-from-Buffy's-blood thing meant that they were biological sisters after all. She loved the story about the Mayor turning into a giant snake and Buffy and her friends blowing up Sunnydale High. "I _knew_ that gas leak story was fishy!" she claimed.

Tara ... Buffy wasn't really sure what Tara thought. Tara had been almost as quiet as Willow, ever since the confrontation with Osiris. When she emerged from Willow's room, she often had puffy eyes as though she'd been crying. Buffy knew that Tara and Willow were talking to each other, at least, because she heard their murmuring voices through the door sometimes—but more often than Buffy would have expected, Tara came out and asked someone else to sit with Willow. Then Tara would leave the house, or if it was after dark, she'd sit in the living room and read one of her women's studies books. Buffy got that there was tension, and she figured she had better give them space.

And then there was Spike. Buffy had worried about Spike at first. Spike had been the one to suggest that they should all watch over Willow; Buffy, in turn, had quietly asked everyone else to keep an eye on Spike.

Spike was a recovering heroin addict who'd been clean for two and a half years, but who depended on high-powered prescription painkillers to cope with his headaches. He walked a knife's edge on a regular basis. And sure, this was apparently all Willow's construction—but it was real, too, the only reality that counted now. And now he'd found out that his whole life was a lie, that he was a century-old monster, a literally bloodthirsty killer. Or at least that he had been, until Willow had re-made him into Buffy's perfect boyfriend.

Before Angel left, Spike had spent hours and hours with him, privately talking through their history together and what Angel knew of the rest of Spike's un-life. At one point Buffy had tried to intervene, quietly begging Angel to go easy on Spike and maybe spare him the goriest of the details, but Angel had pointed out that sparing everyone the details had been _Willow_ 's plan, and that that hadn't gone very well at all.

"Why do you _want_ to know about all that awful stuff?" Buffy had asked Spike afterwards, lying in bed at night. "It doesn't matter anymore. It never happened. _This_ you never did those things."

"It does matter," Spike disagreed, splaying his fingers gently across her bare belly. "It matters because who I am now is a reaction to all of that. My horror of violence, my veganism, even the way I come over all woozy at the sight of blood."

"Willow was making you as different as possible from what you had been."

He shook his head. "Not exactly. That's not the way she explained it to me. She said she sort of ... took away the demon that had been part of me, and then my human personality had to fall into place of its own accord. And, well, later on I wouldn't remember being a vampire, but at that moment when the spell happened, she and I had to sort of work together to build my new past. Make it all fit. Same thing as happened for each of the rest of you, according to her, only it was harder with me because there were so many changes. So, this _me_ I am now—I chose it for myself.

"And another thing. Angel's told you a thing or two about souls by now, yeah? Well, here's something I haven't told _him_ —Willow says that when she reached out to me with the spell, I already had one."

"Huh?" Buffy propped her head up on her arm, the better to look at him. "That doesn't make sense—Willow told me you were still evil, even when we were dating, it's just that you had a chip in your head that stopped you from biting people."

"Yeah, she told me about that too," Spike said. "And she's sure that I didn't have a soul the last time she saw me, pre-spell. But when she grabbed me with her spell, there it was."

"How's that possible?" Buffy asked.

"Dunno. Willow doesn't know, and Angel certainly doesn't, so I guess that'll be one unsolved mystery. But, well, Willow did see into my mind a little, like, when she did the spell. So what she could tell me was that the soul was no accident. I'd somehow come around to realizing the horror of the monster that I was. And so I'd gone out and got a soul." He gazed up at her, gave her a tentative little smile. "And she thinks I did it for you."

"Spike," Buffy whispered. Her eyes prickled with tears, which she covered up by kissing him.

After a few intense seconds, Spike pulled away enough to give her a serious look with a smile on its edge, and said, "What are you thinking now, Vampire Slayer?"

"I'm thinking," Buffy said, "that this life is a gift. And we might as well enjoy it." She kissed him again.

And then they made love, sweetly and gently. Afterwards, drifting off to sleep with Spike's warm arms tucked around her, Buffy thanked Willow, in her thoughts.

Maybe what Willow had done hadn't been right. But _this_ was Buffy's life now, and she wouldn't want it to be any different.


End file.
